


Everybody Needs Some Body

by Milky_Boy_Blue



Series: Second Summer [7]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bodyswap, Comedy, Cults, Family Drama, Gen, Time Travel, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-12-27 04:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 67,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21112406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milky_Boy_Blue/pseuds/Milky_Boy_Blue
Summary: While struggling to regain the family fortune he lost during the events of Weirdmageddon, Preston Northwest also fears for the safety of his daughter, especially in the dangerous town of Gravity Falls.  When her father suggests a solution that would only make life harder for her, Pacifica turns to her friends for help, unaware that in doing so she will change her life forever.





	1. Chapter 1

Preston Northwest stood among the unsophisticated rabble gathered at the Gravity Falls Town Square, hating every moment of it. To his right was his wife, her arm in his, listening to the little mayor’s speech with the rest of the other townsfolk. On every other side was a man or woman so common that Preston wished he could still afford a highly trained security detail to escort them from the premises of his personal space.

But those days were long past and now he had to stand among the crowd, no longer having access to the incredible wealth that allowed him the special treatment he deserved. He was still better than them, obviously. The problem now was that he just didn’t have the spare money to prove that to them too.

Preston took a deep breath to calm his nerves as he felt someone’s elbow touch his and suppressed a shudder and a sharp remark. To distract himself from the contact he focused on the stage where Mayor Tyler Cutebiker was delivering his speech to the crude masses. Preston’s lips curled as he watched the town’s overly-enthusiastic mayor, his eyes dropping from the mayoral sash, business suit and tie, to the cut jean shorts and large boots, thinking the man looked utterly ridiculous in either business or personal attire. 

Stanley Pines and his brother Stanford Pines sat behind the mayor, the scientist brother looking the much more attentive of the two. He could understand their presence, at least. Stan Pines had been the one who had been willing to sacrifice himself to save the town, which including Preston and his family. And for that Preston was willing to forgive some of his uncouth nature, even if he felt the man had received a little too much praise. After all, he hadn’t actually sacrificed himself: he was sitting there, relatively healthy and technically sane of mind. Still, he had saved the day in the end and had even protected Pacifica in his hovel of a home so Preston didn’t resent him too much for being allowed to be beside the mayor (pathetic little excuse for one that he was.)

Stanford - wait, was that right? Who really cared. The scientist brother was also an individual whose presence Preston could allow to be on the podium. Maybe his feats hadn’t been quite as heroic as his brother’s - in fact from what Preston had heard it sounded almost as if he caused as much trouble as he sorted - but he did strike a better figure with his straight posture, the more intelligent gaze and the far better figure than his twin. Maybe he was meant as a calming figure to his brother. Then Preston’s eyes drifted to the other men on the podium and felt his anger rise.

Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, formerly ‘Old Man’ McGucket, sat opposite the twin brothers on the podium, his son Nate by his side. For years, Preston Northwest had always had a seat on the podium. Even after the truth about Nathanial Northwest had come out, he had retained that seat thanks to the sheer amount of wealth and respect he commanded, the number of businesses he owned in town giving him more power and control than any elected official.

For every event, he received a letter from the mayor asking if he would attend. Even when he declined, which he usually did, there would then be another letter, making sure that they received his permission before they allowed anyone else to use his seat.

This time there had been no letter.

He had even called the mayor himself to ask for it and had to suffer the double embarrassment of having the secretary - the bloody secretary! - explain that none had been posted and the seats had all been filled and if he wanted to speak to the mayor about it then he could try and call again later.

Preston Northwest, owner of Northwest Mud Flaps and once the most powerful man in the State. Dethroned by a stinking hillbilly and his moronic son. A man who had been living in the dump for years and thought that devouring books helped keep you alive, while his son had never achieved anything more than owning a fishing shack.

And now the town was celebrating this former lunatic, even going so far as to melt down the destroyed statue of Nathaniel Northwest (he still hadn’t managed to find out how that had happened - a fruitless waste of money) and use it to create a monument to their new benefactor.

Preston had fought and nail to prevent the creation of the new statue, using every resource he could afford and plenty that he couldn’t. So what if the old man had designed the robot that fought for the town during Never Mind All That, he had argued. Hadn’t he also created several monstrosities that terrorised the town? Scared the children? Been such a nuisance that even his own son had made the right call and just turned his back to him? And so what if he’d spent so much of his fortune to help the town? To fix any destruction that the rogue monster caused for free, or restock the library with better books and computers and fund a clinic in town to make sure the townsfolk, animals or monsters could get medical assistance without having to travel to the nearest hospital? At the end of the day he was still a backwaters buffoon who still struggled to get his words right. Even if the average man was too stupid to see that, Preston was glad that at least he could.

Preston gritted his teeth as the Mayor finished his speech and allowed the inventor to speak to the crowd, his temper rising when, as if to prove his point, the old man stumbled over his words, seemingly making some up even as he spoke haltingly, trying to sound nauseatingly humble.

Preston scoffed when the man mentioned how grateful he was for the kindness he’d received over the years, thinking back to the many jokes made at the lunatic’s expense and wondering if he was really that naïve or if he was still too crazy to realise the truth. But the crowd seemed to enjoy it, clapping and even cheering when he awkwardly finished. 

He shook his head in disgust when the cloth was dropped to reveal the new statue, depicting the old scientist in what Preston assumed was his prime: much younger with a full head of hair as he sat at a desk with an old laptop, a banjo and family photograph beside the bulky machine. 

The crowd cheered again and stepped forward to get a better look at the new monument, pushing past Preston and his wife with an indifference that made his blood boil. Then, as if to add salt to his wound, he spotted his daughter through the crowd, standing on the sidewalk. She was between the younger Pines twins and their overweight and tomboyish friends, wearing a filthy apron and a disgusting uniform that matched the one worn by the old cyclopean woman behind her.

His daughter. Pacifica Elise Northwest. A damn waitress standing out on the street with truckers, lumberjacks and other people who made less per year than she used to spend on one day’s shopping.

She deserved better.

“Let’s go, Priscilla,” Preston growled, pushing his way through the crowd and earning several angry looks as he longed for the days when they would part before him and avoided his eye. “We’ve wasted enough time with this sideshow.”

Priscila Northwest looked at her husband’s back with a strange mixture of sympathy and disappointment. She started to move her way through the crowd but paused when she spotted her daughter, standing with her friends, the little Pines girl wrapping an arm around Pacifica's neck and walking her closer to the statue. She saw her daughter push her off roughly and give a no doubt witty remark, a small smile on her face that made Pacifica sigh with relief as she followed her husband, glad that the day hadn’t been a total waste.

“So what do you think?” Stan asked McGucket as they considered the new statue. “Poindexter and your boy debated for ages about the best depiction of you. Personally, I’d say they did an alright job. The best of both worlds here.”

“It - y’all didn’t need ter-to do this,” the old man stuttered as he looked at the monument. “It’s just unecesstar-unnecessary.”

“Nonsense!” cried Stanford, gently clapping his old friend in the shoulder. “You’ve endured worse than any of us and yet you still kept your kind nature. You deserve to be commended for that alone, never mind all the good you’ve done and continue to do. It makes sense that the town should wish to show their appreciation, Fiddleford.”

“He’s right, Dad,” agreed Tate, standing beside his overwhelmed father. “You should be proud. I am.”

Fiddleford nodded but didn’t say anything as he looked at the statue of the young man he had been. For so many years he had wished to be that young man again, to go back and relive his life so that he wouldn’t be alone, focus on his friends and family instead of his work. His greatest desire even when the madness in his brain had rendered him unable to do anything for too long without causing a scene and embarrassing himself and his family. 

But now he didn’t need to go back. So, despite his stutterings and his hesitation at being surrounded by so much praise, his discomfort at being at the centre of so much attention, he put on a self-conscious smile and thanked everyone very kindly. Because he had his son, his friends, his happiness and even most of his mind back. And to the kind, scatter-brained old inventor, that was worth every bad day.

* * *

** **

Pacifica finished brushing her teeth as she looked forward to the day ahead, checking her hair and makeup in the reflection before heading out to her morning shift at Greasy’s diner, hoping that the customers would be as generous as the day before.

Yesterday had been a good day. The townsfolk had been in high spirits and were especially indulgent with their tips before and after the unveiling of the statue. She had spent time with the Pines family in the afternoon during her break and then a little more when they had decided to get their lunch at Greasy’s and had also praised her on her baking skills after she suggested the group try the cakes she made herself.

Of course, Stan had still tried to talk his way out of paying, arguing that his heroic sacrifice and sheltering of the few remaining townsfolk in the Shack during Bill’s attack had earned him free service from everywhere in town, but a quick punch from Wendy and a sharp nudge from his twin had made him begrudgingly pay for his share of the meal. And a few soft words from Mabel had also made him resentfully add a few more dollars for a tip, even if he did grumble through the whole process.

But the main reason Pacifica was happy was that when she had been serving another customer, she had heard Wendy mention she’d be away for the rest of the week to go camping with her family.

While Pacifica didn’t resent the redhead quite as much as she used to, they weren’t exactly friends either and she was still happy that the object of Dipper’s unaccommodating desire would be away for a few days. Leaving Pacifica with ample opportunities to spend time with the twins on her own, enjoy some games, hopefully have an adventure of their own, and (with Mabel’s help) maybe even get the difficult boy to see the light.

She didn’t have too much hope for that last part since even a sociopathic sorceress with magic hadn’t been able to dent his determination, but Dipper Pines wasn’t the only one in town who had difficulty letting go of a crush. 

“I’m off to work!” she called out as she reached the front door. “I’ll probably meet some friends afterwards but I should be back for dinner! Bye!”

“Pacifica,” she heard her father rumble from the dining room. “Come here. Your mother and I wish to have a word.”

Pacifica winced. She knew that tone too well from the days when it had usually been followed by the ringing of a bell. Letting out a quiet sigh she made her way to the dining room where her mother and  father were sitting at the top of the long table, waiting for her.

After they had been forced to sell the Manor, the Northwests had relocated to their much smaller summer home, lying just outside of town in a wide open space, unlike the old Northwest Manor (renamed McGucket's Hootenanny Hutt by its new occupants) that sat atop a hill, overlooking the strange town. Their new home was much smaller, but still dwarfed the other residences in town. The two floors, attic and basement held a variety of rooms that included a reading room, a trophy room for Preston’s hunting awards and kills, several large bedrooms, a study, a separate office for Preston, a wine cellar (they had made sure to collect as much  alcohol as possible before they sold the manor) and a range of other rooms that showed that, while no longer billionaires, the Northwests were still living in the lap of luxury thanks to their collection of businesses throughout the country.

Or, at least, that was the image they had been trying to maintain. In truth, Pacifica knew that her father had been spending more and more time at the office because he was busy struggling to keep what little he thought they had. Unfortunately, old habits die hard and while he and the family had made several sacrifices from their relatively impoverished state, there were some that Preston had been unwilling or unable to make.

There were no more weekly shopping trips just to flaunt their money or shipping the best food, drink, cars, clothes or anything else they wanted just to prove they could. The house staff had been cut down to a near skeletal crew and the ridiculously high standards the family had for their chefs, maids and butlers had been lowered greatly. Priscilla could no longer buy a dress just for one night and most of Preston’s prized cars had been sold shortly after the manor. Pacifica had been forced to give up all but one of her ponies, the hardest part for her by far. They could no longer afford even one of their daughter’s previous tutors. Preston had tried to send her to a renowned private school but she had been unwilling to leave Gravity Falls and with the surprising support of her mother, had eventually convinced him to let her attend public school.

But despite all that, Preston still made sure that they ate like royalty, received the most expensive birthday and Christmas parties coupled with extravagant gifts just to prove he could, and now he refused to sell anything else that could help them. Preston had raised his daughter to believe that appearances were everything and now that lesson was costing Preston more than he could afford.

“Uh, I’m working this morning, so can we please be quick?” Pacifica asked her parents as she approached, stopping to pat the head of Duchess, the family dog and one thing Pacifica was very glad that they never had to sell. “Or if it can’t be quick then can we please talk after work?”

“I’ll just have Charles take you there if you start to run late,” Preston said with a frown, referring to the family driver, another luxury he was unwilling to let go of. “Your mother and I are concerned for your safety after...what happened last week.”

When Pacifica had been dropped off late one night with a black eye and several other bruises, they had understandably been alarmed. Especially when they had phoned the police station, despite their daughter’s protests, and been informed by Sheriff Blubs that Pacifica had been assisting Deputy Mendez and several others in fighting a sorceress who had used magic to control a large portion of the town’s male population.

Pacifica had to beg them to let her attend Dipper’s get well party the next day and it was only after pleading with her mother that she was allowed to go at all, and even then it took a great deal of persistence. Preston had been furious that his only child had been allowed to take part in the rescue attempt and had threatened to ban her from ever going near any of the Pines family again or even going to work if he couldn’t guarantee her safety. In the end, Priscilla had been the one to convince her husband not to, fearing it would just make Pacifica resent her parents even more and cause their little girl turn to desperate option to stay in contact with the only friends she had. 

But Pacifica knew her father still wasn’t entirely satisfied and prepared herself for the worst as she took a seat and watched her parents warily. 

“We know that your friends and your job are both very important to you,” Priscilla began, pausing for just a moment as her husband harrumphed in distaste. “But your safety is much more important to us, Pacifica. So your father and I discussed the best way to protect you and still let you maintain your independence. After much debate, we decided the best solution was to assign you a bodyguard. We’ll begin the interviews next week.”

“I - you - what?” Pacifica stared at her parents incredulously as she tried to process this sudden shift of events. “Next week? But - you can’t give me a bodyguard!”

“It’s the best solution, darling,” Priscilla said gently as Preston grunted. “This way there will always be someone to supervise you while at the same time you can continue to meet your friends and make - other relationships.” 

Pacifica flinched at her mother’s unsubtle comment about her hopes for the future. Both Northwest women glanced at the family patriarch but Preston didn’t pick up on the cue, simply glaring at the table as he drummed his fingers on the wood angrily. “But I don’t want a bodyguard!” she wailed. “I’m just trying to fit in! You can’t fit in if some guy in a suit with a gun follows you everywhere! People already have a hard enough time talking to me because I’m a Northwest!”

“So they should,” Preston muttered.

“I’m sorry, Pacifica, but your father and I agree that this is the best course of action,” Priscilla said, her voice soft but firm. “None of us are particularly happy with this, but it’s the only way you can still be safe while maintaining your freedom. Do you want us to stop you from working or keep you away from your friends?”

“No! But - but -” Pacifica struggled to think of a response as thoughts ran through her mind of the difficulty in talking to even Mabel or Dipper while a muscular shadow loomed nearby. “But what about the cost?” she asked desperately. “Bodyguards are expensive! I know we’ve got money trouble, we can’t just-”

“DAMN THE COST!” Preston roared, his wife and daughter jumping as he slammed a fist on the table, Duchess scampering out of the room in a panic. “I will not stand by and allow my child to be hurt!” He turned to a still startled Pacifica. “You are my daughter,” he growled. “It’s bad enough that I’ve lost our wealth, our family home, and even our status. I can’t lose you too.”

Pacifica stared at her father, dumbfounded. That was probably the closest in a long time he had come to saying, ‘I love you.’ She glanced at her mother and saw the same kind of determination in her face, even if it was much kinder. “I...okay, Dad,” she said quietly. “But can we please talk about this again later?” she begged them. “This is a big deal for me! Can we discuss this more at dinner?”

“There’s nothing you can say that can change our minds, Pacifica,” Priscilla warned her as her husband settled back in his chair. “But I suppose we can work out the finer details tonight.” 

“Thank you!” said Pacifica, nodding desperately as she realised this was probably the best they would allow her. For now, at least. As she rushed to her bike, pausing only to clap and settle a still frightened Duchess while she quickly told Charles that she would just pedal faster for the exercise, she realised that her mother was right and she probably wouldn’t be able to think of a way to change their minds.

But she had a pretty good idea who would.

* * *

** **

Mabel walked through the empty Mystery Shack shop, Waddles at her heels. “Okay, so we’ve pretty much figured out the seating arrangements,” Mabel said as Dipper raised his pen, ready to make more notes. “Melody’s family is small and get along okay, we don’t need to worry too much there. If we keep Stan and Ford away from them then we can avoid causing a commotion. Uh, catering’s all been sorted, gotta thank Pacifica for suggesting that company.”

“We already did,” said Dipper, sitting on the counter stool as he recorded the minutes for his sister. “Yesterday. You just got distracted when you saw a butterfly out the window and didn’t hear it.”

“Oh, well that’s another thing off the list then,” said Mabel, pausing her pacing to pat her pig’s head. “Let’s see, what’s left...we’ve got the priest and the church, after party at the Shack, I’ll rent a karaoke machine, yadda yadda. Anything we’re missing?”

“Photographer?” Dipper suggested.

“That’s you, silly,” Mabel said, leaning over the counter to bop her brother playfully on the nose.

“Mabel, I’m just an amateur,” Dipper said, rubbing his nose. “And if I’m meant to be beside the groom then I can’t take photos of the wedding itself. I’d have to leave my position constantly or else I'd just be taking pictures of Soos from the back.”

“Oh, right, hadn’t thought of that,” Mabel said, deflating slightly in the padded blue suit blazer she was wearing, clashing horribly with her jean skirt and sneakers. “I guess we’ll just get someone to do it from the aisles while you’re up there, then you take over again afterwards.”

“Photography isn’t as simple as pointing and clicking,” Dipper told her, slightly annoyed that she assumed someone else could do his hobby so easily. “There’s lighting, angles, making sure that-”

“Well you can find someone and explain all of that to them, it doesn’t have to be perfect and there will be plenty for other people recording it anyway. And everyone knows that video is way better than photography.”

“Is not!” Dipper snapped.

“Shh,” Mabel said softly, leaning over the counter again and putting a finger to his lips. “Denial is very unattractive and we want you to look your best for the wedding. Speaking of, we still need to work on suits for you guys and Wendy and the dresses for us gals.”

Dipper pushed her hand away, frowning as he recalled that Gideon Gleeful had managed to convince Wendy to wear a suit, ruining the wedding slightly for the teenage boy since a part of him was looking forward to seeing the leggy redhead in a dress. He wiped his mouth and saw glitter on his hand, further souring his mood. “What’s wrong with that suit I wore that time you took over the Shack? That did the job okay.”

“Dipper, we’ve grown a bit since last summer,” Mabel reminded him as he jumped off the stool and went to the mirror to check there was no trace of glitter on his lips. She grunted and shook her upper body, the buttons stretching slightly. “I mean, just look at this suit! It’s much tighter than I remember it being last year so the same’s probably true of the one you wore. And this is too important to have your bare ankles ruining the group photo!” 

“I suppose your right,” Dipper grumbled. Satisfied that he had finally removed all the glitter from his face, he considered his reflection and realised they had grown since last year. Only a little bit, definitely not as much as he would have liked, but it was better than nothing, even if Mabel was still just that little bit taller. He was slightly short for his age, but that didn’t bother him as much as it used to since Mabel didn’t bring it up very often, and he suspected that in the next few years he’d most likely catch up and then surpass her. 

The bell above the shop door rang and the twins turned to face Pacifica, her face red from cycling as fast as she could after her shift ended. “Guys, I need to-” She froze when she saw Mabel, her mind struggling to process the strange attire. “Uh, what are you wearing?”

“This is my Boss Mabel outfit!” Mabel cried proudly, doing a little dance to show off her shoulder pads. “It helps me look and feel mature, making me more adept at the organisational skills I need to help plan Soos and Melody’s wedding.”

“You look like someone stuck your legs and head on a short banker’s body,” Pacifica told her. “And why are you wearing glasses?”

“These are lense-free glasses,” Mabel explained, putting her finger through the holes to rub her eyelids. “See?”

“Then what’s the point - oh, never mind. Wait. Why are you still helping with the wedding plans, shouldn’t that be the couple’s responsibility?”

“I offered to help!” Mabel boasted.

“Begged, more like,” Dipper muttered.

Mabel ignored him. “We’re almost done,” she said. “Hey, we need a temporary photographer for when Dipper’s up at the front. Interested?”

“Um, I guess?” Pacifica said hesitantly. Then, realising that this would be a great opportunity to spend more time with Dipper, cleared her throat and changed her answer. “I mean yes. Yes, I’ll do it.”

“Great!” Mabel said, her grin and tone suggesting that she knew exactly why Pacifica had suddenly become more willing to volunteer. “Now we just need to get the suits and dresses and find a bouncer.”

“Why would you need a bouncer for a wedding? Are Melody’s family rowdy?”

“No, they seem pretty cool,” Dipper said. “It’s just in case any monsters or weirdness happens while it’s going on. We don’t want to freak out her parents or anything.”

“Well why not get Wendy’s dad to do it, he can break or chop down pretty much anything.” Pacifica looked around the shop. “Where is she, anyway? Did her family leave for camping already?”

“Yeah, went out this morning,” Dipper explained with a shrug. “And Mister Corduroy’s a bit too...rough to be a bouncer. He’s more likely to cause fights or make them worse before he stops them.”

“Well that’s true,” Pacifica muttered, recalling the numerous stories she’d heard of the large man’s explosive temper. “Anyway, I came here because I need your help. My Dad’s trying to get me a bodyguard! They think it’s too dangerous in town for me to be unsupervised! I’m trying to be normal, you can’t be normal when there’s this big guy following you around and constantly glaring at everybody you meet!”

“And you want us to kidnap your dad and then wipe his mind so he’ll forget you ever had that conversation,” said Mabel, nodding sagely. “We’ll do it!”

“Um, no?” said Pacifica, glancing at Dipper who was also giving his sister a concerned look. “Can’t - can’t we do something else? Like, anything else?”

“Let’s call that plan Z,” Dipper suggested. “That way we’ll have the rest of the alphabet left before we get there.”

“But I’ve been on a roll with my plans lately!” Mabel complained. “We can totally do it! I’ve got the grappling hook, Pacifica knows the layout of the home, there’s probably a memory gun still lying around in the memory vault somewhere or if there isn’t then you can check some of Ford’s notes for a memory formula to concoct - it’s flawless!”

“...so what would you suggest?” Pacifica said, turning to Dipper in desperation.

“Uh, let’s hear the whole story first,” Dipper said, still eyeing a disgruntled Mabel warily. “We can talk about it in the living room.”

“You guys just don’t appreciate my brilliance,” Mabel muttered as she followed them to the living room, taking a seat at the little round table where many a night the Pines family had gathered to learn and play games or just enjoy each other’s company.

Pacifica told the twins of her conversation with her parents, her fears of a bodyguard making it even harder to associate with normal teenagers, even the pride and enjoyment she felt at working as a waitress under lazy Susan’s tutelage.

“I don’t want to go! Susan’s been nothing but kind and patient with me! She’s the best teacher I’ve ever had, way better than those stupid tutors I had before we lost our money. She’s even told me how much she’s like working with me and how proud of me she is!” Pacifica sighed. “She’s said that more than Dad ever has,” she added bitterly, Dipper pausing in his notetaking to give her a sympathetic look.

“Don’t worry, Pacifica,” said Mabel, leaning over and patting her head, the blonde giving her an annoyed look in response. “I have the perfect plan!” Mabel tore several pages from her own notebook and laid them all out on the table, revealing that instead of making bullet points like her brother, she had instead drawn on them, each page making up a piece of what looked like a very rough plan, complete with stick figures of the three teens.

“We shall meet outside your front gate at midnight because it sounds cooler that way,” Mabel began, pointing to the three stick figures at the bottom corner, Pacifca and Dipper noticing with annoyance that their stick figures had a frowny face and stink lines, respectively. “After you sneak out of your house, you can unlock the gate to join us, after which I will use my grappling hook to carry all three of us over the wall! Now, you may be wondering why we won’t just walk through the gate Pacifica just unlocked. Answer: that would be boring! Now, after we down the chimney and sneak into the master bedroom, we can knock him out with either a quick blow to the head or by covering his mouth with-”

“Mabel!” Pacifica snapped. “You are not kidnapping my dad!”

“But he’s a jerk! He totally deserves it!”

“Well, yeah,” Pacifica agreed. “But he’s still my dad! Just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean I’m willing to let you mess with his brain. Anyway, my Mom agrees with him and I definitely don’t want you screwing up her memories. What do you have?” she asked Dipper.

“Uh, I have a few ideas,” Dipper said, glancing at his notebook and debating in his head whether he should ask Stan to talk to his sister or whether more of Stan’s influence might make her worse. “The big problem is that their motives are reasonable, even if their solution’s a bit excessive. Wanting to keep his family safe is pretty understandable. Heck, most of last summer Stan pretended he didn’t know anything about the Gravity Falls monsters just because he thought it would keep us safe. Ford was the same, he banned Mabel and me from going to his lab to protect us. So even Stan and Ford could see where your parents are coming from.”

Pacifica grunted grudgingly while Mabel gathered up the pages of her plan and muttered under her breath. 

“My first idea was to have an adult sit down and talk to them, convince them otherwise,” Dipper continued. “But we couldn’t get Stan or Soos to do it since your dad probably looks down on them too much to ever take them seriously. Ford’s probably the best man for it but I doubt your dad wants to be anywhere near him considering he’s so close to McGucket.”

“Yeah, he did complain all morning about the Nathaniel Northwest Statue being replaced,” Pacifica agreed miserably. 

“What if we use your size-changing flashlight to make us adult sized?” Mabel suggested, carefully putting her plan pages away in the hopes they’d get a chance to kidnap Preston Northwest sometime in the future. “We wear rich people grown up clothes, pretend to be someone else with a kid who went through a similar experience and then make up a story that convinces him to let Pacifica keep her job?”

“Won't work,” Dipper sighed. “The flashlight doesn't age us, it just makes us bigger with the same proportions. Even if we used makeup or had something that made us look older, we’d have to design a whole backstory with evidence and be someone really important before he’d listen to us. Too many problems to maintain.”

“And if he did find out it was us then there’s no way he’d let me talk to any of you again,” Pacifica grunted. “So what are our other options?”

“Uh, I need to give it more though, but another idea I had was if we select the bodyguard ourselves. Hang on, hear me out,” said Dipper, raising a hand in preparation to Pacifica’s automatic refusal. “Look, your dad’s pretty stubborn and it’s obvious that he’s going to worry about you. Even Wendy’s dad worries about her and we’ve all seen how good she is at protecting herself.”

“I’d say she’s better at inflicting damage on others, rather than protecting herself,” Pacifica said, thinking back to the damage the redhead had caused at the motel when she had fought what seemed like half the men in town.

“Eh, same thing really,” Mabel shrugged. “At the end of the day, nobody wants to mess with her.”

“Yeah, it’s no wonder your dad became worried after you got involved in the whole...Jenna thing,” said Dipper.

His voice had gone quiet and he blinked rapidly as he absently touched at his neck, remembered his days of enslavement far too clearly. And once again they led to even worse memories, of a night when a very different monster had tricked and used him and made him hurt himself for its own amusement.

Then he noticed the way his sister and friend were watching him and he cleared his throat, flicking through his notepad to awkwardly cover his sudden pause. “So, I think our best option is to find a bodyguard who would suit you since that’s the best of both worlds,” he said, clearing his throat again as he tried to continue the conversation.

“Dipper-” Pacifica began, her voice uncertain before he cut her off.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his voice cracking as he met her concerned gaze. “I just don’t. Okay?”

To the side, out of her brother’s sight, Pacifica saw Mabel give the most  infinitesimal of head shakes as she stroked her pig’s head.

“Okay,” Pacifica said, hesitating for a moment before rubbing his arm gently. “Whenever you want to. If you ever do.”

Dipper nodded his thanks but didn’t say anything, returning to his notes yet again, glad he had something he could hold on to. “Uh, so yeah,” he began again, relieved they were giving him the time he needed. “A bodyguard who suits you. Someone who’d meet Preston’s requirements about protecting you, but who’d also give you space. Um...I’ll be honest, I can’t really think of anyone? Unless we get McGucket to build one, but that leads to a whole list of other complications so does anyone have any ideas?”

The teens sat in near silence as they pondered the question, Waddles occasionally oinking as his master continued to rub his head.

Suddenly Mabel snapped her fingers as she had a lightbulb moment. “I know someone who’s perfect!” she declared, turning to her confused brother. “Who do we know who’ll not only care more about Pacifica than Preston, but who’d be so amazing at it that Preston would be crazy NOT to let them be his daughter’s bodyguard? A certain redhead we know?”

“Wendy?” Dipper asked with a frown, the mention of redheads automatically sending his mind to his personal favourite. “Or her brothers? 

“Uh, there’s no way Dad would consider them for that post,” Pacifica said quickly. “And I don’t think she’d want the job even if-”

“No!” said Mabel, wondering why Dipper couldn’t see such an obvious answer. “I’ll give you a hint: we just met him this summer and he’s got training in law enforcement? And he’s already proven that he’s willing to protect people?”

Dipper blinked. “Wait, you mean-?”

“Yep!” Mabel turned to a still puzzled Pacifica with a broad grin, eagerly anticipating the look on her friend’s face when she shared the story. “See, Pacifica, this might come as a surprise to you, but it turns out that time travel is a thing and-”

“Wait,” said Pacifica, frowning at the brunette. “Are you talking about Phil? Phil Pink? I mean, his job as a time cop sounds impressive for experience, but won’t being my bodyguard disrupt his task of monitoring the Falls for time anomalies or the Cipher Cult?”

Mabel sat frozen with her mouth still open in preparation to retell her adventure in time with the former time-cop. But now the many expressions she had looked forward to seeing on the blonde’s face were gone, Pacifca only staring back at her expectantly. 

Mabel slumped back on her chair and folded her arms over her chest as she pouted. “First you mock my suit, then you ignore my plan and now you won’t even let me do a big reveal.” She glanced between her friend and her brother. “That does it. I’m jumping ships. I was better off fixing you up with Candy,” she muttered, Pacifica blushing as Dipper sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

** **

* * *

** **

_ Author’s note: Yay, I’m back! And so’s Phil, my second favourite redhead in this little AU of mine. Well, he’s not back yet but he will be returning in the next chapter. And it’s about time, considering how of all my original characters he’s meant to be the most recurring but he’s only popped up in just one story so far.  _

_ I’ve still got some things going on so I can’t guarantee my normal weekly-ish update schedule for this adventure. I’ll try but I’ve made other commitments. Some were meant to be completed before my holiday, but that didn’t happen so now I’m dealing with them all at once. _

_ Apparently, telling people that you can’t help them because you have to write stories for strangers on the internet doesn’t qualify as a suitable excuse and that I should, ‘Get my priorities right!’ _

_ Some people are just so selfish. _


	2. Chapter 2

“You sure this is how that Pink guy contacts the future?” Dipper asked as he opened the mailbox that stood in the middle of the woods, peering inside. But try as he might, he couldn’t detect anything strange or unnatural about it at all.

Well, apart from it being a mailbox in the middle of the woods, but he’d seen one of those before and that one had been much more impressive.

“Positive!” said Mabel, watching as her brother raised and lowered the flag and took several pictures of the drop-off point between the present and the future. “I was here when he set it up. Maybe it has to read his fingerprints to activate? It would make sense for them to add precautions. The people that Phil and I talked to in the future were pretty strict with security, especially when it came to the Cipher Cult. Either that or they were worried I’d send them a gummy worm video like I did with the last one.”

“Uh, what?” Pacifica asked as Dipper gave up trying to activate the future technology and they started the walk back to town, the twins telling her of their encounter with the seemingly all-knowing mailbox left alone in the woods.

“Ugh, no wonder it blew itself up! Why would you even stick that many gummy worms up your nose, let alone send your mom a video of it?” Pacifica asked in revulsion as they finally stepped back onto the solid ground of a sidewalk.

“I wanted to experience their gummy goodness through my sense of smell and not just through taste,” Mabel explained. “Mom always says we should try new things so I thought it would make her happy to witness it! Of course, Dad thinks that’s just her way of hinting that Dipper should get out of the house more, but I thought she’d still appreciate me trying to follow her advice.”

“I get out!” Dipper protested.

“Library and arcade don’t count,” Mabel said. “We mean get out where there’s people who can talk to you and the sun isn’t just something on a page or on a screen.”

Dipper grumbled but couldn’t think of a good response to that as the trio made their way to Pacifica’s place of work in the hopes of finding the former time cop. 

Pacifica had explained to the curious twins that she knew all about Phillip Pink and even his mission of protecting Gravity Falls from the future cult dedicated to bringing Bill Cipher back from the dead, but she had no idea where he was staying.

She did, however, reveal that he liked to go to Greasy’s Diner every so often, so Dipper recommended they make their way there in the hopes that Lazy Susan or one of the other staff had seen him recently, or at least seen which direction the former time cop came or went. But then Mabel had suggested they first visit the mailbox she and the Irishman had set up earlier in the summer since that was closer, giving them ample time to inform Pacifica of most of the story detailing their first encounter with the cyborg.

“So now that you’ve heard our Phil story, what’s yours? How did you and Phil get acquainted with each other?” Mabel asked her friend as they walked. “Phil said he didn’t want us telling people about him until he was ready. Did you bond over your mutual hatred of Wendy?”

“I don’t hate Wendy!” Pacifica protested as Dipper frowned. “I just...don’t exactly consider her a friend. I mean, she’s okay. I guess. But no, that’s not why,” she added, seeing Dipper’s frown deepened. “He just dropped by the Diner one night. Sounds like it wasn’t that long after your adventure with him. He seemed to be having a bad day so I gave him a free drink and cake.”

“Aw!” said Mabel, the pride in her voice so palpable it made Pacifica blush. “Our little Pacifica handing out stuff to people in need! And when we first met you couldn’t even pronounce sharing. Well done. Old you would be ashamed.”

“Um, thanks?” said Pacifca, clearing her throat as Dipper also smiled, the stuck-up and cruel rich girl stereotype they knew for the majority of last summer seeming like a distant memory now. “Anyway, we talked for a bit. Nothing too big. No, ‘Hey, I’m a half-robot from the future,’ or anything like that. Just...normal stuff. It was a little while before I saw him again, after that. I came in for my shift and he was at the counter. He’d helped Susan out and she was treating him to some pie as thanks.”

“Did he fight off a gremloblin that was chasing her or something?” Dipper asked.

“No, he’d helped her bring in the new oven. Anyway, I could see that he was a big guy and with the red hair and all, I asked him if he was a Corduroy or one of their relatives. He just gave me this funny look, said he didn’t think so and if he was then he just hoped he wasn’t descended from Wendy. Which was obviously not the response I was expecting and I asked him a few more questions between serving customers and during my break.

“Phil was pretty open about the whole time travel thing, to be honest. At first I thought it was because he thought that might make it easier to protect me from the Cult. But now I think that he needed someone to talk to. He seemed...lonely. It must have been hard on him, being in a different time, especially when it was keeping him away from his family. He talked about his daughter a lot. He really loves her,” Pacifica said quietly, recalling the cyborg’s boasts about his only child. 

“Yeah, he does,” Mabel agreed immediately. “You call him Phil, not Phillip. Did you start calling him that or did he ask you to?”

“Uh, he asked me to,” Pacifica said, puzzled by the sudden question. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Mabel said, thinking hard. “So why didn’t you mention him to us before?”

“Same reason you guys didn’t tell me, I guess,” Pacifica said, glancing at Dipper who only shrugged. “He asked me not to tell anyone else that he was here and I agreed. He didn’t reveal he knew either of you, so I assumed I was the only one he’d met. Besides, he said he’d make his presence known to more people after he’d done some time...stuff.”

“Finished setting up the chronological scanning grids throughout the valley to detect any time anomalies,” Mabel said, nodding as she remembered the discussions in the future. “It was so his tablet would be alerted to any breach in time.” Mabel frowned suddenly. “Now that you mention it, I also remember him saying that would only take a month at the most but we never heard from him again.”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen him for a while either,” Pacifica said, thoughtfully. “Which is a shame. Even if he didn’t have any money for anything, he was always nice to Susan and me, kept offering to help move or carry anything that was too heavy for us as thanks for treating him.”

“Well we’ll see if Susan’s heard anything or seen him,” Dipper said as they spotted the Diner. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ve just not been working when he’s been there.”

But the friendly old waitress with the bad eye hadn’t seen the tall, muscular man in weeks and asked the teens to let him know that there was still a slice of pie waiting for him if he needed it. Then she had graciously given them all a little something for the road, saying that it was the least she could do for their role in Never Mind All That.

Dipper and Pacifica had tried to protest until Mabel (who took after Stan) graciously accepted all of the treats on their behalf and pushed the other two out the door before they could do anything noble or silly like give them back. Mabel devoured hers in a second and graciously offered to eat theirs on their behalf, but her brother and friend had shared a look and promptly took the bags off her.

“You guys are no fun,” Mabel pouted as she watched them eat. “First you say you say you don’t want the grub, then you eat it just because I do want your grub! That’s just selfish.”

“I’m a Northwest,” Pacifica retorted. “Selfishness, spite and greed are in my blood. Also, I baked these so I deserve to sample one every now and then, and it annoys me that you eat all that sugary and fatty crap without gaining weight while I do.”

“I just like muffins and don’t want you eating mine,” Dipper shrugged, consuming his with obvious enjoyment, much to Pacifica’s satisfaction.

“Eh, both good reasons,” Mabel shrugged as they walked into town, considering the best way to locate their target.

“I guess we should put the word out to the others,” Dipper said thoughtfully. “The more eyes on the lookout for Pink, the better.”

“We can give it a try but I think we might need to consider other options, just in case,” Mabel said, not unreasonably. “The Gravity Falls valley is a big place and he could be anywhere. He could be in a mountain cave or in the woods or even sharing a tree with Sev’ral Timez for all we know. Heck, that’s even assuming he even needs to sleep or rest with all those robot parts of his. It could be ages before we find him! Oh look, there he is.”

Dipper and Pacifica paused, following Mabel’s finger to the opposite street where, true enough, Phillip Pink stood in an alleyway.

“Wow, he does not look good,” Dipper muttered as they crossed the road and Mabel and Pacifica both had to concede that he had a point. 

The Irishman looked to have lost some weight, even if his muscles were still larger than anything Dipper dared hope to gain. His face was sunburned and his clothes were more than a little worn, sporting several tears and appearing unwashed. He now wore an untidy ginger beard and his previously stylised hair was longer and unkempt, reaching just below his ears, not a look that suited the once very handsome fifty year-old man well. It also didn’t help that he was busy rummaging through a trash bin and that’s not an attractive look for anyone, even if the man from the future had been at his most appealing.

Of course, his hair, clothes, fitness and hygiene were still much better than Dipper’s, but that was setting a pretty low bar and neither girl was willing to point that out to him right now.

Phil cursed under his breath as he searched, unaware of the teens until Mabel announced their presence.

“Phil!” Mabel cried, spreading her arms out wide as the object of their search stopped his own searching. “It’s so good to see you! I love the new look! It’s very future-retro! Well, I’m assuming it is because why else would you dress like a homeless guy who’s searching for food? How’ve you been?”

“I’m homeless and searching for food,” Phil grunted. “Apart from that I have plenty to complain about. How’re you?”

“Um, fine. Thanks for asking,” Mabel replied politely. “Going to be honest, I was not expecting that response. You, er, you doing okay?”

“No,” Phil growled, returning to his bin searching.

“Oh.” Mabel faltered as the man made no attempt to explain or even communicate any further. She looked at Pacifica and Dipper, beseeching them for help with her eyes. 

Pacifica cleared her throat and stepped forwards as Phil removed an empty beer bottle from the bin and started checking it for any cracks. “Uh, listen, Phil, we, er, we were actually looking for you. We need your help and-”

“Is it the Cipher Cult?” Phil gasped, drawing his plasma pistol and dropping the bottle to grab the surprised teen by the arm, pulling her into the alleyway. “Where are they?”

“No! Not them!” Pacifica said hastily as Phil grabbed Dipper and Mabel next, pushing them beside her as he poked his head out and looked up and down the streets for any threats, his weapon still drawn. “No, this is something else! There’s this job and Mabel thought you’d be perfect for it!”

“I already have a job,” Phil said, holstering his plasma pistol and giving them a weary look. “Protecting this place and all of you from the Cipher Cult. And that’s full-time, I can’t afford any distractions.”

“But this is the perfect job to coincide with that job!” Mabel said. 

“Sounds too good to be true,” Phil said suspiciously.

“It is!” Mabel cried, her head bouncing with excitement. “That’s it exactly!”

“She means that this is a great opportunity and it won’t be here for long,” Pacifica jumped in quickly as Phil raised an eyebrow. “I mean, your body alone would practically guarantee you the position!”

“You want me to become a stripper?”

“What? Ew, no!” Pacifica took a step back as a look of revulsion crossed Dipper’s face. “I meant your robot arm and legs! Ew! Who would ask you to do that?”

“Me,” grunted Mabel, her eyes wide. “Yeah, forget what we were going to say, you should totally do that instead.”

“Hey, my eyes are up here!” Phil snapped.

“I don’t care,” breathed Mabel, looking him up and down.

“It’s your own fault, dude,” Dipper sighed while Phil tried to position the plastic bag between himself and the young teen. “You brought it up, now she’s gone creepy.”

“I’m not creepy!” Mabel denied, giving her brother a reproachful look as she wiped the drool from her mouth. “It’s not like I’ve secretly kept those wanted pictures of his in a box under my bed alongside my Mermando letters and those pictures I secretly took of Sev’ral Timez while they were shirtless in the Shacktron; their sweet, elegant bodies exposed in tantalising ways, their tight pants showing off their perky - wait. What were we doing again?”

"Yeah, you don't get to make jokes about me and Wendy after that," Dipper told his sister. He turned back to Phil. "Listen, we need your help to-"

"Whoa, whoa, hold the phone," Phil said shaking his head and holding up his hands. "You’re not still attracted to Corduroy, are you?”

“Uh,” said Dipper, his voice cracking anxiously as Pacifica threw them both a frown.

Phil groaned in despair. “Kid, you can do so much better than the likes of Wendy Corduroy!”

Dipper blinked up at the large man. “No one’s ever told me that before,” he muttered in surprise. 

“Aye, well, more people should,” Phil grunted. “Find someone closer to your own age. Less of a delinquent. Smarter. Kinder. Maybe someone you already consider a friend, but who might be willing to become something more?”

Dipper’s face reddened as he heard the obvious inflection in the man’s tone, Pacifica freezing while Mabel started to grin. “Wh-what are you trying to say?” he asked, trying to sound defiant while ignoring Pacifica's stare and his sister's soft squee.

Phil gave the boy a measured look and knelt down beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think you know what I’m saying,” Phil said gently as Pacifica’s heart fluttered and Mabel's squee began to rise as her grin stretched to Cheshire levels. “I think you should give Candy another chance.”

“Wait, what?” Dipper asked, the surprise killing his blush.

"- _ eeeee _ wait, what?" agreed Mabel, her grin vanishing.

“What,” growled Pacifica her hopeful gaze turning into something far less innocent.

“You both have so much in common,” Phil went on, apparently too focused on promoting his ship to notice the looks he was receiving. “You’re both smart, you enjoy your video games, hell, I bet you two could have literal study dates! Wouldn’t that be adorable?”

“I never thought of that!” Mabel gasped. “I might just have to jump ships for real this time!” 

“What,” Pacifica repeated, still unable to believe this was happening.

“You both also seem to like your research,” Phil continued. “I bet if you did ask her out, assuming you play your cards right, she might be willing to give you another shot! What do you say, kid? Have someone else to play that D, D and More D with? Take it from someone who knows," he added, leaning forward and pulling the boy closer as he spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, "If you find a girl who'll play those kinds of games with you it opens up so much potential! After all, what's better than earning a kiss from the girl after slaying the dragon?"

Dipper's blush returned full force as the man gave him a knowing grin and raised a suggestive eyebrow. 

"We're getting off topic," Pacifica said through clenched teeth. "Again."

"Yeah, we'll compare our ships later," Mabel promised the cyborg as he let go of a still embarrassed Dipper to pick up the empty bottle again and put it in his plastic bag, a little smile on his lips. "We've got an offer that you just can’t refuse! We want you to be Pacifica’s bodyguard!”

“Oh hell no!” Phil yelled, his smile immediately twisting into a look of disgust. “No bloody way!”

“I just said it was an offer you can’t refuse! You’re not meant to refuse it!” Mabel scolded him angrily. “And what’s so bad about it?”

"Because even homeless, I’ve still got standards,” Phil hissed, storming out of the alleyway and down the street.

“Well that was hurtful,” Pacifica said, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“Yeah, I liked him way more last time,” Dipper muttered, his cheeks still burning.

“No, he was angry even before he heard our offer,” Mabel reminded them, thoughtfully watching the cyborg’s retreating figure. “There’s something else going on here, I can tell. Come on, we’re not giving up that easily.”

Phil walked down the street, his stomach growling. He put a hand over his belly and pressed it in, hoping the bloody thing would take the hint and shut up. He reached the end of the street and was waiting for the light traffic to slow down enough for him to cross when he heard the rush of feet behind him. “Ugh, seriously?” he sighed, turning to face the dogged teenagers. “Don’t you guys ever take no for an answer?”

“Nope!” Mabel cried proudly. “We’re all exceptionally stubborn and we’re too stubborn about it to stop now!”

“Listen, Mister Pink, maybe if you knew more about the proposition then you might reconsider?” Dipper suggested as the girls nodded.

“Doubt it,” Phil grunted. “But I can't obviously can't stop you from telling me anyway. So go ahead.”

“Well what do you have against becoming my bodyguard?” Pacifica demanded. “What’s so bad about it?”

“The fact that I’d be working for Preston Northwest!” Phil snapped, turning to glare at the blonde. “What, you think that just because I’m scrounging for food, I’d be willing to work for someone like him?”

“You worked for Time Baby and he was the tyrannical overlord of the future,” Dipper countered.

“Everybody worked for Time Baby!” Phil barked. “He was the ruler of Earth! That’s how global dictatorships work! And even then, I’d still rather work for him because I know he had standards!”

“That’s rude to Pacifica, even if it is completely true!”

“Shut up, Mabel!” Pacifica turned her glare on Phil. “Hey, my Dad might be flawed but he isn’t some fascist monster! Shut up, Mabel!”

“I didn’t say anything that time!”

“You were about to!”

“Well, yeah, obviously!” Mabel snorted. “With a setup like that, how could I not?” She turned away from the scowling blonde to face the scowling redhead. “Come on, Phil,” she urged him quietly. “Look, you obviously need the money and you know what they say about beggars not being choosers. Um, do you still have that saying in the future?”

“I know the saying,” Phil confirmed, his mouth tightening. “But the answer’s still no. Preston Northwest is the scum of the Earth and I’ll be damned if I work for someone like that. I might be struggling for food and living in the dump but I still have my - FOOD!”

Phil pushed past the startled teens and into the traffic, ignorant of the loud horns around him as he ran past the vehicles, launching himself onto the sidewalk. The large, heavy built man on the opposing street could only stare in disbelief as a dishevelled redhead suddenly jumped out of traffic and onto the single slice of pizza he’d dropped, rapidly stuffing it into his mouth as growled like a wild animal, teeth bared at the unfortunate bystander.

Phil continued growling until the man backed away slowly, his arms raised in surrender, only putting them down when he finally turned tail and ran. Phil erupted into a manic giggle as he devouring the messy slice of pizza, his laughter continuing until three small shadows met his and he glanced up to see the twins and their friend staring at him.

Phil cleared his throat and wiped at his mouth, licking the last traces of pizza grease from the back of his hands before standing to address them. “Right, where was I?” he asked, utterly failing at regaining his composure.

“You were about to tell us the filthy lie that you still had some dignity before you started eating another man’s food off the ground,” Mabel said helpfully.

“No, I was going to tell you that I still had my pride,” Phil corrected her irritably. “My dignity went out the window years ago. But what would my daughter think if she found out I was working for someone like Northwest?”

“Are you seriously going to tell us that working for Preston would make you look worse than what we just saw?” Dipper asked him.

Phil considered this. For much longer than most people probably should have. 

After far too long had passed, Mabel gave a depressed sigh. "Come on, Pacifica," she said, taking the blonde by the arm. "Phil obviously doesn't want to go through with it. We'll just find someone else to protect you from the dangers of gravity Falls. Of course, we might not succeed," she added, her arms spreading theatrically. "Then you'll be stuck with one of your father's bodyguards. Forced to limit your self-discoveries since you'll never truly be given your freedom. Destined to be forever alone since he'd be constantly stopping you from being yourself, hindering any attempts to make new friends, always acting as a third-wheel for any dates you may go on in the future! Cursed to never achieve the natural maturation that humans go through in their teenage years! And all because Phillip Pink said he'd rather - where'd he go?"

"He rolled his eyes and walked down the street around the time you said, ‘hindering’," Dipper explained, pointing to where the cyborg was turning a corner.

"Why does that never work?" Mabel demanded. "It happens all the time on tv!"

"I think we should just give up," Pacifica sighed. "He obviously doesn't want to work for my dad - not that I can blame him," she added bitterly.

"Well I still want to know what's wrong," Mabel protested, marching down the street. "He told me he'd be getting provisions from the future, food shouldn't be an issue."

"Mabel, maybe we should just leave it alone?" Dipper suggested, following her. "Some people need space!"

"And some people need help but are too stubborn to ask for it!" Mabel countered, increasing her pace. "And until I figure out which this is, I'm going with my gut! And my gut says help! HEY, PHIL!"

Phil audibly sighed as he continued walking. "Leave me alone, Mabel! I'm not bloody interested!"

"Okay, fine, we'll stop talking about the job!" Mabel offered, rushing to catch up with him. "But at least tell me why you don't have any food! I thought the future was sending you those paste things to keep you going?”

“Somebody stole them,” Phil grunted, refusing to slow down for the teens and their much shorter legs. “It's going to be another six days before I can request more. Don’t know if it was the gnomes, one of the other little monsters that live in the area or if it was Corduroy and her bloody pals.”

“Hey, Wendy wouldn’t do that!” Dipper protested immediately, Mabel adding her own scowl to support his denial. “She might like her pranks but there’s no way she’d take somebody’s food!”

"Aye, well, you obviously have a much higher opinion of Corduroy than I do," Phil muttered.

"Why would you assume it was them?" Pacifica asked, Dipper glaring at the cyborg's back as they entered the town dump. "I mean, I know Wendy and her gang like to misbehave but that seems like a pretty big..." She paused when she saw the man from the future standing completely still while Mabel glanced up at him pityingly. Pacifica moved a little further in and followed their gaze. "Oh no," she winced.

As they would later learn, Phil had a pretty tough time settling into Gravity Falls. He wanted to keep his mission a slight secret since he honestly didn't know who to trust, especially as the majority of townsfolk openly admitted they didn't like most out-of-towners and his accent definitely marked him as one of those. For every Lazy Susan or Pacifica, there were double that many who just didn't like the stranger walking about, attracting the attention of most of their women-folk and some of their men-folk and apparently bad-mouthing their country by muttering 'I wish I was home, things were better then," over and over again. They were so enraged by his apparent jingoistic isolationism that they didn't question why he said 'then' instead of 'there' (assuming it was just his accent) and many people - particularly those who liked to frequent the Skull Fracture - would often try and challenge him physically, often with cries of 'Go back to Scotland!' before they knocked themselves out headbutting his time-Tanium alloy skull. Overall, his first impressions of Gravity Falls weren't that great.

He tried to live in the woods, away from people at first. But the nature of the twenty-first century was very different from that of the distant future and he honestly wasn't that big a fan of even his own time's ravenous, mutated monsters, let alone Gravity Falls'. The Manotaurs kept challenging him to arm-wrestling, the Hide Behind kept following him (he assumed), the gnomes were annoying and Sev’ral Timez were the first people in the history of the universe who made him feel unattractive in comparison. Of course, all of them combined were nothing compared to the utter loathing he had for the Leprecorns, but that was a topic he wasn't willing to talk about yet.

After a few days of searching, he finally found a stroke of luck and came across the town junkyard and the former home of Fiddleford Hadron 'Old Man' McGucket. True, it was an unsanitary mess of rusted metal and broken furniture and cars. But it had a roof, kept most of the cold out and even had a few items leftover from when McGucket had stayed, giving Phil a very rudimentary home to live in. Which was why it was so hurtful to see someone vandalising it.

"Man, it took us hours to think of this but it was worth it!" Nate laughed as a chuckling Lee finished adding the final exclamation point to the 'PINK STINKS!!' sign they were spray-painting on the side of the hovel. Then their smug grins vanished as the spray can exploded, showering them and the area around them in purple.

"Damn," Phil said, lowering his plasma pistol. "Missed."

"I think my life just flashed before my eyes," Lee whimpered as Nate's knees buckled. "I've wasted so much of it!"

"Well maybe next time you'll think twice before vandalising the home of the guy with the FREAKING LASER GUN!" Pacifica yelled at the stunned boys.

"It's a plasma pistol," Phil corrected her, frowning at the colour explosion he'd made of his makeshift home.

Pacifica rounded on him. "And you! What the hell was that? If you'd missed you could've killed them!"

"Eh, when I'm from they're already dead," Phil shrugged. Seeing that the glare wouldn't relent he sighed. "I aimed with my cybernetic arm and eye," he explained. "That's almost a guaranteed hit."

"The use of the word 'almost' makes that statement both awesome and frightening!" Mabel commented, obviously conflicted. 

"Seriously, guys?" Dipper asked as he helped a shivering Nate to his feet. "We just had a big celebration for McGucket in which he literally asked us all to treat strangers and the less fortunate with kindness! And now you're vandalising the same home he used to live in? Man, no wonder Dan thinks Wendy can find better friends," he sighed, the still traumatised boys wincing as his disappointment just added more salt to their purple wounds.

"Don't bother trying to teach them morals, kid," Phil muttered, checking the explosion hadn't dislodged any of the metal sheets supporting his roof. "They're just a pair of eejits too stupid to learn from their mistakes and their lives will probably be so meaningless that's it's a waste of your time even talking to them."

"Hey, we're not eejits!" Lee protested weakly. "We're Americans!"

"Wow," said Mabel, the others staring at the boys incredulously. "You guys are really proving his point." She cleared her throat and shook her head. "But forget that for now!" she said, glaring at the older teens and the adult. "I think you should apologise for vandalising Phil's house and then he'll apologise for almost murdering you. And for saying that they're already ready dead and their lives are meaningless!" she added, giving Phil a scathing look.

Phil gave an indifferent shrug. "Why bother? They'll be dead soon enough."

"Heh, you-you're kidding, right?" Nate asked, trying to laugh and failing miserably. "Right?" he squeaked, as Lee swallowed thickly.

Phil gave them a look, his face impassive.

"Oh my God," Nate breathed. "I've got to call my Mom!"

"Oh my God!" cried Lee. "I've got to destroy my computer!"

"Wait, guys!" Mabel called after the boys as they fled desperately, tears streaming down their panicked faces. "He was only kidding! Guys!"

"Er, you were only kidding, weren't you?" Dipper asked nervously.

"Of course I was bloody kidding!" Phil snapped, his face thunderous. "How the hell should I know when they'll die? But maybe now they'll think twice before messing with my house," he grunted, storming into the ramshackle shack.

"That was still very cruel of you," Pacifica admonished, following him through the doorway and only earning a grunt in response. "But now and I can see why you'd think they stole your food, even if I still don't believe it," she added, earning another grunt in response as he turned away from them to do something at the far end of the room. "They wouldn't steal his food, would they?" she hastily whispered to Dipper and Mabel.

"No!" Mabel said defensively. "They might be vandals, but they're too dumb to think they'd get way with stealing something like that from somebody like Phil! Uh, you know, Phil, if you're struggling for food, we could help you out!" she said in a louder voice. "I mean, Pacifica works at the Diner, Lazy Susan said you're always welcome for a slice of pie, Dipper or I could just treat you to a burger or a hotdog sometime-"

"No hotdogs!" Phil said suddenly, his head shooting up as he visibly shuddered. "I haven't had one of them since the day my little girl lost her arm!"

"Wait, what?" asked Dipper, pulling out his blue journal with the golden pine tree symbol. He flicked through the pages until he came to the ones detailing his adventure in time with Mabel, Wendy and their friends and the former time cop, pulling out a note, turning it over to consider the picture of a beautiful, dark-skinned girl. "Huh," he said, peering at the arm that was silver from the elbow down. "I just assumed that was a glove or some future fashion accessory," he muttered to himself.

"Why do you carry a picture of his daughter in your book?" Pacifica demanded. "Why is she blowing a kiss and winking at you?" She demanded louder. "Why is there lipstick at the bottom?" she growled.

"My daughter's a Dipper fangirl," Phil explained, finally turning to face them, holding a tree with a mug and three bottles, similar to the one he'd found earlier. "I don't want to look at it any further than that. Take a seat," he instructed them as he placed the tray on the floor and offering them a bottle each before sitting on an upturned wheelbarrow, the metal creaking and threatening to buckle under the weight of his cybernetic limbs. "It's just water. I've got some tea bags and some powdered milk but it's...terrible. But it's the only caffeine I can afford and American tea is pretty terrible in this century anyway so it's the best I've got." He raised the mug with the steaming liquid. "Cheers." He sipped it, his face contorting in disgust.

"Can I try?" Mabel asked. 

"I just said it was terrible," Phil reminded her. 

"I know, that's why I want to try it!"

Phil raised an eyebrow at her and offered the mug, watching in slight amusement as Mabel took a sip and shuddered.

"Man, that is terrible!" Mabel agreed, glaring at the tea. "Can I have it? You can have my water?"

Phil - a father - said nothing, just held out his hand for the bottle and took a swig as Mabel continued to sip the ghastly tea.

"So, uh, Phil," Pacifica began, ignoring Mabel's gagging sounds. "We meant what we said earlier. We think you'd be perfect for the job but if you don't want it then...then we can't force you. I know what it's like to have someone try and make you do things that you don't want to do and...and I'm not willing to do that to someone else."

"Me neither," Dipper said quietly, his hand reaching up to touch his neck.

"But we were just wondering if...if there was anything that we could do for you," Pacifica said, clearing her throat and gently bringing Dipper back to the present. "Mabel and I both noticed you're a bit down in the - er, a bit downtrodden."

"She was going to say, 'Down in the dumps' but then thought better of it," Mabel explained to Phil as she took another sip. "So yeah, why are you such a grumpy grumps? You're almost rivalling Stan today."

"None of your business," Phil growled, taking another swig from his bottle.

"Yep, fair enough," said a nonplussed Mabel. "Except we're a bunch of nosy teens. And that's annoying, sure. But it's also helped us solve problems for people in the past. They complained at first too." She sipped her tea again. "Yuck. Did I tell you that I've started seeing a therapist? I think I mentioned it, but it's hard to remember since I was so busy running after Wendy, then running away from you, then running after you, lots of running! Anyway, I've been to see her a whole heck of a lot. To talk about the things I talked to you about that night. I was hesitant at first but she took her time with me. And as Dipper will tell you, that needs a whole lot of patience!" she added with a grin.

Phil didn't respond to the joke, just watching her carefully as Dipper and Pacifica shared a glance.

"Anyhoo, she's taught me a lot of things. But you know what one of the first things she told me was?" Mabel continued, focusing solely on the obviously lonely man who had risked his life to warn her friends and family. "She said that most people need to talk to someone. But a rare few don't. When I asked her how to tell them apart, do you know what she said to me? She said just talk to them anyway. Because if they need you then you'll have let them know you're there to listen. And if they don't need you, they can just tell you to shut up. And then you can do that too, which proves you were still listening to them." Mabel got to her feet, brushing at her skirt before returning the mug. "Thanks for the awful tea," she told him. "If you need us, just come find us. Because, all though it might not always seem like it, in Gravity Falls you are never truly alone." She wrapped her arms around the man's neck. "Thanks for talking to me when I needed it," she added before letting go. "Come on, guys," she said, walking to the door and gesturing for a surprised Dipper and Pacifica to do the same.

"Wait, that's it?" Dipper whispered to his sister as he got to his feet.

"That's it," she responded. "Give him space but let him know he's got friends if he needs them."

"Um, thanks for the water?" Pacifica said, obviously sharing Dipper's surprise. "If you come by the Diner...well, just come by the Diner, okay?" she asked the still silent cyborg before following Dipper and Mabel to the exit.

"She's found someone else."

The three teens turned to face the former time cop, who looked more shocked than anyone at what he'd said. "Rachel. My ex-wife," he explained quietly, running a hand through his hair."We...we were together for so long. We went through so much together. Da's death. Her Ma's. Raising Mary. I thought...I thought we'd be together forever." There was a noise from the back of his throat and he looked down, unable to meet their eyes. "But then things changed, and I realised too late to stop it from happening. We tried everything. She tried to change, I tried to change, we went to marriage therapy. No one can say we didn't try. But no matter what I did...I couldn't get her to love me again. But I can't stop loving her. I can't even stop thinking about her."

The tears that fell to the floor were louder than a waterfall in the silence of the room as he paused for breath. "I...I knew it was coming," he whispered. "Mary had told me about him. How happy he made Rachel, how kind he was, how...how he made them laugh. And now they're living together. Another man is helping the love of my life raise my daughter. I said I was happy for her. And - and I am. But it's - it's-" Phil cleared his throat and raised his head, wiping his eyes angrily. "Why am I telling you this?" he demanded suddenly, drawing his legs up to his chest and glaring at the ground, the wheelbarrow protesting loudly. "You're just kids. You have no idea what I'm going through," he muttered darkly.

Mabel and Pacifica winced at the bitterness in his voice, unable to offer any solace to his despair.

“I know there’s a thousand voices in your head telling you something different. Most of them tell you it’s all your fault. That you should have tried harder, said something different, been funnier, better looking. That if you aren’t the one making her laugh or smile the way he is then it’s because there’s something wrong with you. That the reason she doesn’t care about you that way is because you don’t deserve it.”

Dipper glared at the ground, his fists clenched. “And then there are days where, despite what you want, the voices become even worse. They turn on  _ her.  _ Asking how is it fair that she can continue like nothing’s changed while you’ve been hurt so much? They become vicious and cruel, calling her terrible names and scream it’s her fault for not acknowledging you, that you deserve better. Even when in your heart you know she did nothing wrong.

“But that still isn’t the worst voice,” he said quietly, looking up to watch the sun shine through a gap in the makeshift ceiling, highlighting the thin strands of a lonely cobweb. “The worst is the little one, quieter than the others but somehow stronger. The one that says things might change, to never give up, no matter how long it takes or how hard it’ll be. That she’s worth the wait and eventually you’ll get your chance. That one day, even if it’s years away, you’ll be the one who’ll make her laugh that special way. That on that day it’ll be worth all the pain. Because then she’ll smile at you. And in that moment the world will be yours.”

Phil considered the young teenager in front of him for a long time while Mabel glanced between her brother and Pacifica, the blonde's eyes on the floor as she held herself uncomfortably. "I think I see why my girl admires you so much," Phil said eventually. "I'm glad she picked someone like you to be her hero."

"Yeah, she's got great taste in men," Mabel agreed quietly, making her brother blush. "Wait, are you sue she isn't romantically interested in him?" Mabel asked the redhead suddenly, causing her brother's blush to deepen while Pacifica's eyes flashed dangerously.

"No!" Phil snapped. "She's eighteen! And from the future! It would never work! Besides," he grumbled, "she's too obsessed with that bloody ship of hers to ever let herself become a love rival to it."

"I'm a shipper too!" Mabel boasted proudly. "I supported Dipper in his Dippendy craze, even if I never thought it would work in a million years. Then I met Candy and I became a full-blown Dipandy until I read Pacifica's text, which made me jump to the Pacipper ship! Maybe I can get you to join my ship?"

"Maybe I'll get you to join mine," Phil countered, more than a little defensive at the idea that someone thought he could so easily jump ships after supporting it for so long.

"Forget the damn ships!" Pacifica snarled, deciding she'd had enough of such talk for one day. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. When that didn't work she took another. And another. "Listen, Phil," she managed eventually. "I might not know exactly what you're going through. But I do know how hard it is to live a certain way and then suddenly not have that kind of freedom anymore. So even if you don't want to work for my Dad, I'm sure we can get you something else. Maybe as a logger since that metal arm can help you carry everything? Or maybe become a deputy? I'm sure Mendez would be willing to help you out-"

"I bet she would," Mabel grinned, elbowing her brother. "Hur hur hur!"

"Shut up, Mabel," Pacifica sighed, not even bothering to look at her. "Look, even if you can't take on a job, you shouldn't have to live like this. McGucket would be willing to give you a room - trust me, he has plenty - and he's one of the zodiac so that would be ideal. Even if you don't want to do that, then at least come by the diner? You helped my friends. You're protecting the town. You were nice to Susan. As far as I'm concerned, any one of those has earned you a free meal whenever you need it." She leaned forward and put a hand on his knee. "Please?"

Phil looked into her eyes and recalled another young girl who would often look up at him with her own blue eyes, too often getting him to do something that he really didn't want to do. Usually he ended up regretting it. But never enough to make him completely stop succumbing to her pleas. "Okay, kid," he sighed miserably. "I'll do it."

"Thank you, Phil," Pacifica, said, patting his knee tenderly. "I know how hard it is to ask people for help, but it can make your life so much easier if-"

"I mean," Phil growled through gritted teeth. "I'll take the damn job." 

* * *

_Author’s note: Yay! Phil’s back for realsies! And he’s a Candipper! Who knew?_   



	3. Chapter 3

"We're back!" Mabel cried as they entered the Shack. "And we found the cyborg from the future!"

"Uh, what?" Stan asked, hitting the mute button on the television as he saw the downtrodden man following his family and their friend into the living room. "Uh, you sure he really is from the future and not just some bum that thinks he is?" he added, eyeing Phil's unwashed clothes and hair suspiciously while he reached behind his chair for the baseball bat they kept for emergencies.

"No, Stan!" Mabel said defensively. "This is Phil! I told you about him, remember? He's the guy who came back in time, fought dinosaurs, destroyed the Northwest statue with Wendy and then got me to be his future-lawyer?"

"Oh, right," Stan said, recalling what Mabel had told him of the man. "Mister Hot Pink. Hang on, time travel hurts my brain so I'll grab Sixer."

"Wait, you were the one who destroyed the statue?" Pacifica asked, more surprised than irritated.

"Well, it was mostly a mind-controlled Corduroy," Phil explained as Mabel called on the other members of the Pines family and Stan went to collect his brother from the lab downstairs. "Cut it in half with a laser-axe and then tried to beat me to death with it. Until I head-butted her in the face!"

"I think you said that last part with too much relish," Pacifica commented as Dipper threw the man a look. "Seriously, why do you hate Wendy so much?"

"I'd give you a list of reasons but SOMEBODY-" Phil turned to glare at Mabel, "-told me I'm not allowed to do that in front of her brother!"

"And I'm glad to see you keeping your word," Mabel nodded. "I might not think he has a chance with Wendy, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to utterly crush his hopes just yet. Time will do that eventually."

"I'm right here!" Dipper protested hurtfully. "Hang on, last time we met you said you were given nanobots to fix the damage you and Wendy caused. Why didn't you fix the Northwest statue too?"

"Nanobots stopped working by the time I reached it for some reason," Phil answered, looking around the Shack with interest. "Maybe they burned their batteries fixing Thompson's car and the rest of the street? Just guessing, not an engineer."

"Well, Dad seems to be the only person who really cared in the end," Pacifica said, dismissing the entire thing with a wave of her hand. "And everybody likes the new one better, anyway. Just don't mention it in front of my Dad!" she added. "Like, ever!"

"Can do!" said Phil, giving her a small salute as he returned to looking around the Shack, looking forward to letting his daughter know that he had been invited in the building.

"Woah!" cried Soos as he, Melody and Abuelita came to meet the man from the future. "It's that hot pink dude that I saw in the forest when I was helping Mendez! Only now you're aren't pink anymore, dude! What's up with that?"

"Um, yes I am," said an obviously confused Phillip Pink. "I'm still Pink. I've always been Pink."

"Oh no!" Soos cried, his hands slapping his face and dragging his cheeks down. "I've gone colour-blind! Anime will never be the same again!" he wailed.

“I think you’re just confused, Soos,” Melody said gently, trying to console her fiancé.

“He’s not the only one,” Phil muttered.

"We'll explain later," Dipper promised him. "Right now we just need to make sure you're the best candidate for the position." He tapped his finger against his chin as he pondered. "Uh, let's see...we can work on your appearance. Get you a shower, shave, haircut-"

"We can get you one too," Mabel suggested happily. "See if we can get a buy one, get one free kinda deal!"

"I don't think that's how haircuts work," Pacifica said, putting her hand to her mouth to hide her smile as Dipper muttered under his breath. "But we can work on that later. The important thing is making sure that Dad knows your qualifications. And, more importantly, believes them."

"Yeah, time travel is pretty far-fetched, even for Gravity Falls," Melody agreed. "I mean, I've been attacked by an android beaver possessed by a girl from a video game, but travelling through time? That's a whole new level of weirdness. No offence."

"None taken," replied Phil. "But Northwest should already know about it, to some extent. He was part of Cipher's throne when Time Baby and a bunch of us went back to try and stop him with our holo-projections. Man, that temporal whiplash was rough," he added, rubbing his temples.

“Sweet Lord!” cried Ford, stepping into the living room, his anticipation at meeting a man from the far future dashed when he caught sight of Phil’s dishevelled appearance. “Are you kids positive that this isn’t some vagrant who merely believes himself to be from a different time?”

“Aw!” cried Mabel, her finger drifting between her Grunkles. “Stan said the same thing, just in a less smarty-pants way! That’s cute.”

“I’m beginning to regret agreeing to this,” Phil sighed, unused to having people criticise his appearance, let alone so often in just one day.

“Phil’s had a hard time lately and I _ really _ need him to be my bodyguard, so I would really appreciate it if you two didn’t _ insult him! _” Pacifica hissed at the brothers.

“Oh alright,” Stan groaned, rolling his eyes in-sync with Ford, earning another little smile from Mabel. “I’ll try to be Mister Nice Guy. Hey, Phil! Wanna hear a joke?”

Phil frowned at being referred to by his nickname without his permission. “Not real-”

“Here goes,” said Stan, clearing his throat as he prepared his favourite, ignoring Mabel and Dipper’s desperate gestures. “My ex-wife still misses me...but her aim is gettin' better!...Her aim is gettin' better!”

Stan’s expectant grin vanished as the redhead’s lip suddenly started to wobble dangerously, Dipper sighing as Mabel slapped her forehead and Pacifica buried her face in her hands.

“My ex-wife doesn’t miss me,” Phil said, a haunted look on his face. “In fact, she’s already found someone else. They’re living together.” He sniffled. “Raising my daughter. She says he makes her laugh.” His shoulders started to shake as he began to blubber. “I was so happy! And - and now she’s already moved on! And I’ve tried to do the same but - but - !”

Stan took a step back as the large man let out a howl of despair, his misery now streaming down his face. “Why won’t she take me back?” Phil cried, grabbing an unsettled Stan by the shoulders. “What will it take for her to love me again? Whatever it is, I’ll do it!”

“I can see why you believe he needs help,” Ford noted as his brother desperately tried to escape the weeping cyborg’s grasp.

“Not sure that bringing him here was the right call, though, dudes,” Soos commented, scratching his chin.

“Look at what my misery’s done to me!” Phil wailed, finally releasing Stanley to tear his shirt in half with ease. “Look at what I’ve allowed myself to become!” he cried, gesturing to a body that put even Ford’s physique to shame, to say nothing of the others. “This used to be a six-pack! Now it’s four! FOUR!” Phil collapsed on the ground, throwing his arms over his head as he sobbed. 

Mabel put a hand on her brother's shoulder. “That’s you in ten years if you don’t get over Wendy.”

Dipper threw her a cold look and slapped her hand off his shoulder.

“Well done, Stanley,” Ford said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know?” Stan snapped back. “And even if I did, who woulda expected...this!” He gestured to howling redhead.

“Ugh! Guuahh! So lonely!” Phil gasped as he continued to make a puddle of tears and snot on the floor, Pacific patting his head awkwardly while Abuelita rubbed his muscular back with more enjoyment than was appropriate for the situation. “Uugugh! AauuWHYuugh!”

“Yeah, I don’t think this is going to be as easy as we first thought,” Pacifica said, wondering what else could go wrong today.

* * *

“Will you be needing me again, Sir?” the chauffeur asked, holding the door open.

“Yes, but not until much later, Charles,” Preston replied, stepping out of the car and fixing his cuffs, making sure he looked the imposing figure his workers needed to see him as. He paused as the car drove away, looking up at the Northwest Mud Flap Factory, his mouth setting firmly as he remembered the environmental scandal that had further soured his name after he’d been unable to bribe the reporters or politicians. He’d lied to both Pacifica and Priscilla that it had been cheaper to fix the hazards in the long run but in truth he just couldn’t get away with it anymore. His scowl deepened as he thought about the growing debt he was facing every day. It didn’t seem to matter how many threats, bribes (not that he could afford many of them anymore) or promises he made, he was running out of time.

Even the staff were becoming less obedient, more leaving for better work. Some had even left without any replacement job available, complaining openly of their lower wages and no longer having to fear his wrath at insulting the conditions of his factory.

He gave a sharp, strong exhale through his nostrils and marched into the factory, making his way upstairs to his office. Former friends, allies and rivals alike had all unified in dismissing him now that he wasn’t even half the man he had been this time last year. Years spent forging alliances, even enjoying games of golf or hunting trips whilst debating how best to spend or earn more money and influence, which laws to push aside or bolster, which party or candidate to support or deride. And now barely any would pick up the phone.

And the few that did kept using the same, tired old excuses. As if he wasn’t smart enough to know exactly what they were doing. His fist clenched as he approached his office, his face as stormy as his thoughts,and was glad to see that his personal secretary at least knew her place well enough to avoid his eyes when he was in such a mood.

“Have I received any calls today?” he demanded.

“Nothing business related, Sir,” she responded. “Your wife called; she said that she’d selected a few promising recruits for the new position. She faxed some documents as well. Here they are, Sir.”

Preston grunted as he took the folders from her, giving them a quick scan as he walked past her and into his office. There, he laid them all out in and took his time to look through them all thoroughly. What he read looked promising. Priscilla always did have a good eye for recruitment. Most were ex-military or at least ex-law enforcement. They all had previous experience in security and some had even worked for other businessmen or politicians. 

Still, none of them were quite to the standards he used to have. Before Never Mind All That, he’d been able to hire men who’d protected presidents and kings, entire teams of men and women to guard just him alone. Sometimes he’d done it just to show that he could, something else to flaunt in the faces of those beneath him, relishing in their annoyance when they’d considered themselves worthy enough to approach him unannounced, only to have someone block their path and remind them that they needed his permission to enter his vicinity.

Preston grew even more irritated as he read the fees that the better candidates charged and pushed those aside, irritated that he now had to lower his standards even for the safety of his daughter. He’d often heard people say you couldn’t put a price on your family’s safety. He used to laugh and say he’d never had that problem.

He angrily flung some of the folders off his desk completely and stormed over to his drinks cabinet, pouring himself a glass that he downed straight away before pouring another. He was about to down that one too when he realised the bottle was only a quarter full. Gritting his teeth, he glared at his reflection for a moment, wishing he had the spare money to just order one of his workers to the office, scream at them until his mood lifted and then send them teary-eyed back to their pathetic lives with a few c-notes as compensation. Now he just had to grimace and bear it.

He returned to his chair, leaning back on it as he turned to the window, glowering at the town in the distance. After everything he’d done for them. The shopping sprees he’d encouraged Pacifica to have at the mall, the extravagant parties he’d thrown on his boat for a select few. And they spit on his family by replacing his ancestor’s statue with one of a mentally-handicapped hillbilly.

He growled as he finished the last of his drink, tossing the glass aside in anger. Then he blinked in surprise when he didn’t hear it land. He glanced over and it suspended in the air. It was only then he realised the rest of the world had also gone deathly silent; no low thrum of the factory machines, no soft electric hum from his computer, not even the background noise from his open window. Nothing.

And, recalling the last time he’d witnessed time freeze like this, Preston Northwest reached into his jacket and drew his pistol from its holster as the sweat gathered on his brow. He glanced about the office and out the window but couldn’t see any signs of reality tearing itself apart like last time, just the deafening silence and hovering glass and birds in the distance.

He swallowed loudly as he approached the door, leaning his ear against it but still unable to hear anything over his own heartbeat. He gingerly cracked it open and saw his secretary frozen like the glass, a pen in her hands as she considered her screen. He walked over and waved a hand in front of her eyes, not expecting or receiving a response. Then he tried shaking her by the shoulder but she was as cold and solid as stone.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the first sound in what felt like an eternity: the sound of clinking glass and liquid pouring. He turned back to his office, taking a deep breath as he stepped in with his gun raised.

There was a woman sitting on his desk, sipping from what appeared to be the glass he’d tossed aside as she looked over the documents with vague interest. She was tall and Preston could see that she was well built even beneath the strange body armour she wore, clashing with her silver peg leg. When she glanced up from the application, a brief, almost amused smile flashed over her scarred face as she considered the gun aimed directly at her. But it only lasted for a moment before it settled into a firm scowl that suited her far too well.

“Who the devil are you?” Preston growled, taking a step forward, his aim unwavering.

In answer, she threw the glass at him, hitting him directly between the eyes with such force he staggered backwards and his finger twitched, the bullet flying straight for her exposed face. But it was deflected at the last moment, hitting an invisible shield that stretched around the edges of her helmet and protected her face, only becoming briefly visible when it rippled from the impact.

Then he didn’t even have time to blink before she dashed forwards, swiping the pistol to the side as her robotic knee hit him hard in the stomach, knocking all the air out of his lungs. She followed this up instantaneously by grabbing him and throwing him into his own desk. Unrelenting, she then pinned him down with one hand, the other expertly tearing his gun away from him and disarming it.

The woman let him fruitlessly try and push her away until she grew bored and grabbed his arm, enjoying his cries of pain as she twisted it. “Hello, Mister Northwest,” she said when he’d finally stopped struggling. “I want to discuss your daughter.”

* * *

"Fascinating," Ford murmured as he swept his hands along Phil's cybernetic arm. "It's cooler than a normal arm but apart from that, I can scarcely tell it isn't real. What is it made of?"

"Time-tanium," answered a much calmer Phil, too used to people complimenting his body to be too concerned by the scientist's inspection. "Mostly. That's what the basic skeleton and the outer layer is, anyway. There's a layer of mechanical-muscle between them and I have no idea what that's made from but it acts exactly like an organic limb, just better. It's the same with my legs, chest, spine and skull."

"That's quite the modification," Ford said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Is this normal in the far future?"

"I suppose you could say it was exceptional circumstances," Phil said, patting his false arm affectionately. "A bomb the Cipher Cult left in a medical research facility. Couldn't disarm it in time so I tried to throw it out the window. Didn't throw it hard enough. Luckily, the cybernetics station was literally one floor up. Made me the prototype. I got to walk out of the building, they got good PR. Seemed pretty fair to me."

"Got...blown up...protecting...people," Mabel said, jotting his words down, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. "Man, this is going to look great on your application! But we'll change it to a hospital, make it less wordy."

"I'm not much of a liar, Mabel," he warned her. "My honesty's gotten me in trouble but it's the way Da raised me. Although, I think even he'd have preferred it if I just held my tongue more," he added thoughtfully.

"So why did they think you were the Cipher Cult leader if you almost died stopping their bomb?" Dipper asked. "You'd think that would give you instant immunity."

"Well it was a one in a billion chance that I survived the bomb in the first place, let alone getting a better body out of it. When Axel framed me, people started to think that was more than just a lucky coincidence." Phil shrugged. "Conspiracy theorists. If people find out a terrorist lived on the same street as a celebrity when they were kids then that's enough for some people to think they must have been in cahoots the whole time."

"Hm," said Dipper, who had read enough conspiracies series to know that wasn't much of an exaggeration, if it even was one.

"Right, I think we have enough to impress Pacifica's dad," Mabel reasoned, adding the last little doodle to her notes. "Now we just need to make you presentable. Less hobo-looking. We'll start with the beard. Soos doesn't shave, so he doesn't have a razor. Grunkle Ford, while you're writing up your notes to explain Phil's metal bits, can you check if you still have any of whatever it is you use to set your face on fire?"

"I think so," Ford said, making his way to his lab while the Shack was clear of tourists.

"Uh, what?" asked Pacifica.

"I second that question but wish to add more alarm to it," Phil added hastily.

"He says it's faster than shaving," Dipper explained. “I think we should also get you some clothes. But they won’t allow you in the mall without a shirt so let’s take one from the gift shop for now.”

“Party pooper,” Mabel muttered as she followed them.

“So what kind of shirt do you want?” Dipper asked as they entered. “We’ve got panther shirts, puma shirts-”

“Question mark,” Phil responded automatically. “I can give it to my girl,” he explained, seeing the surprise on their faces at his quick response. “She’s asked if I could send her a few souvenirs and what's better than the actual items from the Shack? Hey, you got any of those pine tree hats? She’s already got one, but she’d just die if I got her an original.”

“Nope, sorry,” Mabel shrugged, searching for a question mark shirt that would fit the cyborg's impressive size. “Soos stopped selling them, saying it was Dipper’s symbol.”

“Damn,” Phil sighed, obviously disappointed. “Maybe I can buy the original off Corduroy, that would be worth a year’s salary to Mary.”

“No, do NOT try and take it off Wendy!” Pacifica said urgently, Mabel pausing in her search to add her own vigorous nods to Pacifica's statement. “She is super protective and really did a number on the last person who tried!”

Phil scoffed. “Oh please. As if I’m scared of her. I’ve got cybernetic limbs!”

“Well the last person had an army and Wendy still won,” Mabel countered. “Seriously, Phil, do not try it!”

“Oh alright,” Phil sighed, rolling his eyes. “Mary’d probably rather have her keep it anyway. Tempted to try just so I can get another shot at her, though,” he muttered.

“What’s the deal with you and Wendy?” Stan asked, leaning over the counter, waiting for Soos and the busload of tourists he was entertaining outside while Melody prepped the museum. He’d offered to drop by while Wendy was away with her family, give Soos and Melody that little bit of help so they didn’t struggle. He’d also done it to get a first-hand glimpse of how Soos did the tours and ran the shop and was actually impressed and even a little proud. But someone would have to slip him a truth-serum before he’d ever admit that, even if the others already knew. “What, does she grow up to murder your great-great whatever?”

“I’m not at liberty to reveal the reasons behind my loathing,” Phil growled, throwing Mabel a dirty look. “All I can say is that she fills me with so much rage, I want to punch her in the face until it’s gone.”

“Your rage or her face?”

“Whichever comes last,” Phil hissed, clenching his metal fist in front of him as he bared his teeth.

“And on that happy note, here’s your shirt,” Mabel said, handing it to him and watching with obvious disappointment as he immediately donned it. “And another for your girl,” she added, handing him a smaller one. “I only met her briefly, but I remember her being tall and chesty so this should fit. If it doesn’t, just let me know and we can find another.

“I...thank you, Mabel,” Phil said quietly, staring at the question mark emblem. “This will mean a lot to her.”

“And who exactly is going to pay for all this?” Stan asked loudly, opening the till for emphasis. “This guy’s already eaten half his weight in snacks meant for the customers and now we’re giving him free merchandise? I don’t think so. One of you kids had better cover for him until he gets paid. Unless Mister Lucky Charms has a pot of gold stashed somewhere?” Stan sneered, more than a little annoyed there was a free-loading cop in his former home. 

“Lucky Charms?” Phil repeated, born thousands of years too late to get the reference.

“I’ll do it,” sighed Dipper, reaching into his jeans for his wallet, reasoning that Mabel and Pacifica had already helped the poor man out and now it was his turn. 

"I'll pay you back," Phil promised, feeling a little guilty at having a teenager support him like this. "Even if I don't get the job, I'll find some way to pay you all back."

"You know, if you're looking for money, you don't need to be Northwest's bodyguard," Stan said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "With that body of yours, we could make some serious moolah!"

"Look, I'm not going to become a stripper," Phil sighed. "My cybernetics weigh too much, I'd bend the pole."

"Why do you keep assuming people want you to become a stripper?" Pacifica sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"Are you kidding me?" Phil asked, gesturing to his body. "Who wouldn't want someone who looks like this to flaunt it?"

"Wow, somebody has a high opinion of themselves," Dipper muttered.

"Only my beauty," Phil countered. "The rest is pretty average. Well, average for the future so I'm still pretty decent all-round by today's standards."

"Hey!"

"It's not an insult, if it's a fact," Phil reasoned to their scowls. "Future people tend to be stronger, smarter, and generally better looking. It's evolution."

"Oh yeah?" Dipper challenged. "Then explain Blendin Blandin."

"...Okay, so we're not all great," Phil relented. "But I'm still pretty hot!"

"Looks aren't everything," Stan grunted, resentful that he no longer sported the biggest biceps in the Shack.

"I'm also an excellent kisser!" Phil boasted, not one for humbleness when it came to his own sex-appeal. "In fact, I know alien techniques that probably make me the best in this century," he said, casually leaning on the counter and looking at the nails on his human hand. The nails on his false hand never grew so he knew they were perfectly manicured.

Stan gave an annoyed grunt and glanced out the window. Then a thought occurred and he grinned up at the Irishman. "You a wagering man, Phil?" he asked suddenly.

"It's Phillip!" snapped Phil. "You should ask somebody's permission before you call them by their nickname!"

"I know, right?" Pacifica agreed, nodding angrily. "It's so presumptuous! They just start calling you it, they never ask if it's okay, and then when you get annoyed, they get defensive! How rude is that?"

Mabel patted Pacifica's arm. "I had no idea you felt that way, Paz," she said softly.

"Alright, fine, Phillip, not Phil!" Stan rolled his eyes as Pacifica punched Mabel in the arm, the brunette grinning broadly. "Yeesh! As I was saying before you got all Mister High-and-Mighty, how would you like to make a bet? You think you're all that? Let's put it to the test. You smack one right on the lips of the next person to walk through that door. They say you're as good as you think you are, then I'll not only pay for your food, shirt and whatever myself, but I'll even give you an extra hundred to help you get by. They say you aren't that great or you don't go through with it, you not only have to pay for this stuff yourself , you have to work for me for a day. That'll really put your body to the test! Whaddaya say?"

"You're on!" said Phil, not hesitating for a second as he held out his hand, Stan shaking it eagerly.

"Did you just make a deal with a professional conman?" Pacifica asked, wondering if too long alone in the Falls had driven the man insane.

"I think I've started to rub off on him," Mabel said, concern seeping into her voice.

"Eh, relax," said Phil, attempting to fix his unruly hair and beard, taking a few mints from the counter. "I'm an expert at this. We once had this charity kissing booth and I - wait." He paused when he caught sight of Stan's broad grin. "Why are you smiling like that?" Then his eyes flew open as horror pierced his heart. "Oh no!" he whispered, spinning round to face the door. "Don't tell me it's-!"

"And here we have the gift shop!" Soos declared, leading the tourists through the door. "Where your money will mysteriously disappear whenever you - you okay, dude?" he asked, his joke forgotten in the presence of Phil sagging and clutching his chest.

"I am SO relieved!" Phil gasped, wiping his brow as his heart hammered in his metal chest. "For one horrible second I thought it would be Corduroy! And then I'd have to lose because even the thought of that's making me sick!" He shuddered and made a gagging sound, putting a hand to his mouth. "It's okay, Phil, she's somewhere else," he whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head as Soos and the tourists stared, some taking a few photos of his intense reaction.

"Okay, back to business!" the Irishman cried when he'd finally regained his composure, clapping his hands together.

"Uh, dude, you sure you're alri-" Soos barely managed before the handsome man grabbed him by the hip and shoulder, dipping him easily before planting a kiss on his lips.

"Okay, the Museum's ready folks, so if you'd please - OH MY GOD!" Melody cried, dropping to her knees as she saw her lover in the embrace of another man. "Not again! Why does this keep happening to me!?"

"It's okay!" Dipper said urgently, rushing to her. "He just made a bet with Stan! It doesn't mean anything!"

"I'm not so sure about that," Pacifica said as Soos' fingers danced pleasantly over the other man's shoulders while the flash of cameras filled the room.

Melody's fears were not in the least bit quelled when Phil finally broke the kiss and gently eased her beloved to the floor, Soos panting heavily as his face glowed. "Dude, that was amazing!" the new Mister Mystery gasped. "That was, like, the best kiss ever!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Phil grinned as Melody let out a moan of despair.

"I hate you so much," Stan growled, holding out two fifty-dollar bills.

"Aw, Mister Pines, you paid another man to kiss me? That's awesome, dude! You know me so well you'd know how much I'd appreciate it even before I did!"

"Yeah, you're welcome," Stan said, withering under the intensity of Melody's death-glare as Phil finally managed to force the money from his grasp.

"Dude, you should totally kiss Melody!" Soos cried, reaching for his wallet. "I would be totally honoured if you were to kiss my fiancé the same way you kissed me," he said, more serious than the Pines had ever heard him. 

"Can do!"

"Wait, what?" Melody managed before Phil gathered her in his arms and kissed just like he had her husband-to-be.

"I don't know what to make of this situation," Pacifica said, her brow furrowing.

"Yeah, I think this is something else to add to the list of stuff we should never tell Mom or Dad about," Dipper told his sister, who nodded.

"Oh my God!" Melody gasped as Phil lay her down beside her fiancé, her hair wild and her face bright. "I love you so much, Soos!" she sighed as she slipped her hand in his.

Stan glanced from the couple below him to the Irishman, his eyes flashing as he hit the till, the _ ka-ching! _ ringing in time to his broad grin. "Step right up folks!" he declared, sweeping the 8-ball cane off the floor and the fez off Soos' head. "You too can be kissed like this lucky couple! Mister Super Lucky Charms, the best kisser in the whole world! Only found here at the Mystery shack! Two-hundred bucks a kiss!"

"Hey!" Phil barked. "I don't work for you! That was just for the bet and as a favour to Soos! I'm not some cheap -"

"I'll let you keep half of what you make and convince Soos to give you a discount on Shack souvenirs for life!" Stan hissed at him through the corner of his grin.

"I reserve the right to refuse service to anyone!" Phil yelled to the crowd, removing his shirt. "Must be twenty-one or older!"

"Dang it!" Mabel yelled, kicking a bin in frustration as she crossed her arms and pouted.

"You sure you want this guy to be your bodyguard?" Dipper whispered to Pacifica as the crowd formed a line and held out their money eagerly. "He seems a bit too eager to flaunt himself."

"Nah, he'll be fine," Mabel reasoned. "He's clearly suffering a great blow to his pride after his wife's moved on while he hasn't. And since he's so proud of his looks, he's despairing that he's allowed his high standards in his appearance to fall. This is obviously his way of validating himself again, both confirming that he's still attractive and that there's still some hope for a potential relationship in the future, when he's finally ready to move on."

"Uh, yeah," Pacifica said slowly, glancing at Dipper who only shrugged in response. "Obviously."

That ended up being a very good day for the Shack. The customers certainly seemed to enjoy themselves, save for the men who were shocked and hurt when their wives practically threw their money and then themselves at Phil, raising some serious questions about their marriages. But even they enjoyed it more than the wives whose husbands did the same, raising even more questions about those marriages.

Dipper and Mabel worked at the counter or on the shop floor as Stan returned to his role of Mister Mystery for just one day, giving Soos and Melody some time to enjoy each other's company. The very happy couple spent the day grinning and giggling like love-struck teenagers as they held hands and walked around the Shack, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ear. It was cute. Weird. But cute. Phil obviously excelled at his task and Pacifica decided to take part in a tour, just to see what it was like. She enjoyed it more than she expected, seeing that Mabel wasn't the only one in the Pines family with a taste for the theatrics, even if Stan's jokes could be noticeably cruder. The twins and Wendy had told her that the props in the museum were changed regularly to keep the customers interested and she made a mental not to come back in the future, to see the different attractions and how Soos did his take on the Mister Mystery Persona.

"I don't think you should have been a cop," Stan told the Irishman later, after the last tour bus had finally left. He counted the notes and offered one pile to Phil, who was busy gargling mouthwash and applying copious amounts of lip balm. "With your seductive talents, we could really hit up Vegas, turn the town red! Whaddaya say?"

"Nope, I'm a cop," Phil replied, taking both piles from the conman and counting them for himself before splitting them in a much more equal manner. "It's what I've always wanted to be. Well, either that or a cowboy but nobody would take me seriously with my accent."

"Plus you'd have to put up with all that country music!" Mabel added, making a face.

"What's wrong with country music?" Phil demanded, crossing his arms as he glared at her.

Before Mabel could respond, there was a loud alarm from Phil's tablet. "The temporal anomaly detector's going nuts!" he hissed, pulling it out and staring at the screen. "With reading this high it has to be the Cipher Cult!" he added, turning the others pale as he tapped at the device. "let's see...according to this, they've just popped up at..." Phil blinked, tapping the screen to make sure. "Northwest Mud Flaps."

They all turned to Pacifica, her blue eyes wide with fear as she stood frozen. Then her phone rang and her hand shaking hand pulled it out, a chill running down her spine when she saw the name on the screen. Swallowing loudly, she glanced at Phil who nodded before she put it on speaker. "D-Dad?" she whispered.

"Hello, Pacifica," an unfamiliar voice growled over her father's grunts of pain. "I’m former-Commander Rebecca Axel. And I can't wait to meet you."

* * *

_ Author’s note: Now, I know I said at the end of A Pink Time-Problem, that I wouldn’t bring the Cipher Cult back for another year at least. And at that time, I meant it. But as I was preparing for this story, I realised the middle (the hardest part of any story for me) was proving even trickier than expected and it was getting closer and closer. I was only halfway through the Jenna story when I realised the Cipher Cult might be the solution to that little problem whilst hopefully helping that story-arc progress more naturally. _

_ I may have most (I repeat, MOST) of this series planned out in my head but I’m not above changing things if the opportunity for a better story comes along. _


	4. Chapter 4

Pacifica's heart hammered in her chest as she sat in the back of Soos' pickup truck, biting her nails until they drew blood, wondering if she'd ever see her father alive again. She recalled their argument from this morning and cursed herself for being so stupid and angry at him when he'd only been trying to protect her. She tried to remember the last time she'd told him she loved him and couldn't think of a single time this year.

She looked out the window and silently urged the car to drive faster. She turned around and looked out the back window at Phil, sitting in the back with his tablet at hand, his metal arm holding the side and his metal legs bracing him against the sharp turns. Stan had offered to drive, pointing out his utter disregard for safety and speed laws. But it would have been difficult for them all to fit in his car, especially with Phil's impressive weight and size. Soos had quickly offered his pickup truck instead and they grabbed Ford from his lab before charging in, explaining the situation as they drove.

But that had already been too long ago and the factory might as well have been in another country as far as the distance seemed to Pacifica. After what felt like years, she finally spotted the smokestacks of the factory in the distance, feeling nauseous as they approached, despite the words of comfort from Soos and the Pines family.

The truck had barely skidded to a halt outside the main doors before Pacifica flung her door open and ran to the building, Phil jumping out the back right behind her. "Which way?" he asked, drawing his plasma pistol.

"Up stairs and to the left, past the secretary desk!" Pacifica yelled. She hit the door, unmoving against her and slapped it repeatedly, desperately waving for the security guards to let her in, wishing they'd move faster.

Phil charged through the door next to her, the metal buckling and the glass shattering.

"Well that's one way to make an entrance," Stan muttered.

"It's okay, he's with me!" Pacifica said to the guards who were staring at the unnaturally strong intruder with horror, their guns raised.

But Weirdmageddon had left its scars on the entire town and in Gravity Falls it was far better to be safe than sorry, especially when faced with what looked like a supernatural force attacking you.

Pacifica cried out as the bullets whizzed past, two hitting the Irishman in the arm and chest. But instead of falling, Phil merely stormed over to the terrified guards and tore the pistols from their hands.

"YOU DO NOT FIRE WHEN CIVILIANS ARE IN THE LINE!" he roared at them, crushing their weapons in his metal hand while pointing his human in the direction of Pacifica. "And it's bloody annoying, so don't shoot me!"

"Think Passuum just got two more patients," Mabel said, seeing the ashamed looks on the guards' faces, clearly not expecting to be called out so quickly by the person they'd just shot.

Pacifica flew up the stairs, the blood pumping in her ears drowning out even the sound of Phil's heavy steps as he followed her. She just reached the top and saw the secretary peek her head out from under her desk before Phil grabbed the neck of her jacket and pulled her back while, behind him, Ford, Stan and Soos, armed with a laser pistol, shotgun and baseball bat, respectively, blocked the way, stopping the younger twins from rushing towards the threat.

"Pacifica, you've made a new friend," Axel suddenly said from the intercom on the secretary's desk. "Even if I didn't recognise the accent, that reckless charge is pure Phillip Pink. How've you been, Phil?

Phil glanced up and noted the security cameras on the ceiling, cursing himself for not thinking clearly. Of course someone like Preston Northwest would have video in his office. He glanced down at Pacifica, the girl fretfully glancing between the speaker and the open door to her father's office. He glanced back at the brothers and Soos, directing his head to the open door. The brothers nodded and made their way downstairs, dragging their family with them as they tightened the grip on their weapons. "Come out, Axel," Phil called out, slowly walking closer to the office, making sure he kept a tight grip of Pacifica's jacket. "You're outnumbered and surrounded. You're too smart to think we'll hand the girl over."

There was a tired sigh from the intercom as a grapple shot out, Stan holding onto the mechanism with one hand while the other was wrapped around his brother's waist. "Oh, Phil," Axel said, her voice piteous as the brothers clambered over the railing and readied their weapons, armed men soon to be standing on either side of the open office door. "It's sad that you still think you can stop me. But it's stupid to think you can stop her."

There was a cry of pain from Preston, followed by the crack of a gunshot, the rescuers flinching as their minds made the immediate connection.

Pacifica slipped out of her jacket, Phil's hand shooting out to grab her, snatching only a hint of her long hair, but she still ran, leaving just a few strands in his grasp as she reached the door, terrified of what she might see but unable to stop moving towards it.

Her father was on the floor, bruised and battered and thankfully still alive, glaring at the tall woman in strange armour who was lifting his upper body off the floor by one hand, the other holding his pistol and pointing it at his daughter.

"Hi, Pacifica," said former-Commander Axel. "Bye, Pacifica," she said, raising the gun until it was aimed at her face.

"NO!" Preston cried out, one hand trying to push Axel's arm while the other reached out for his flinching daughter.

There was an almighty crash that almost drowned out the sound of gunshots as Phil punched through the wall, his metal hand shooting out to block the two bullets that would have struck the girl.

Axel lifted Preston to his feet, using him as a shield as she fired a third bullet at Phil, catching him in the chest to no apparent effect as he pushed the teenager behind him, his human hand holding the plasma pistol.

"Let him go," Phil instructed as Dipper and Mabel grabbed the teary Pacifica and dragged her to safety, Stan and Ford briefly poking their heads out as Soos gathered all three teens in his arms and ran down the stairs.

"Don't fire while civilians are in the line!" Axel sneered, backing towards the expansive window, one arm tight around Preston's neck. "This is why we'll win, Phil! Because you're stuck playing by the rules while we don't have any!"

"You've nowhere to run," Ford called out, peeking his head out again to see if he could get a clear shot. "Surrender now or suffer the consequences!"

Axel answered with a few shots that made the scientist lean back into cover.

"I'm okay!" he yelled down to the cries of alarm from his family. "Stay there!"

"Remind me to never let you be my hostage negotiator," Stan growled, tightening his grip on his shotgun.

"Come on, Axel," Phil said, moving the plasma pistol to his cybernetic arm for better aim. "We've both been through enough hostage situations to know how this will end."

"You're right," Axel agreed, turning the gun away from the hole in the wall to press it against Preston's temple, the man's look of outrage turning back to one of alarm. "And you know what I learned from those cowards and fools? Always have a way out."

She pushed Preston away from her as she fired a few more shots to keep her attackers at bay while her metal leg struck the window, a shockwave issuing from the tip with enough force to completely shatter the glass and send Preston and even his desk flying through the hole Phil had made in his office. Then she leaned backwards, stepping on her spidery leg to fall slowly as the tip continued to glow, easing her descent.

Phil cursed and ran to the window as the Stans rushed to the prone business man. He pulled out his plasma pistol and fired at the retreating figure. Axel paused as the plasma flew past, a few hitting her armour with minimal effect. She turned back to the window where Phil continued firing. In answer to his dedication, she clicked her heels together and saluted. Then she raised her free hand towards him in a fist and slowly extended one finger.

Phil snarled and took several steps backwards before leaping from the window, crying out in pain when he landed. The impact had no effect on his metal limbs but his organs shuddered from the vibration of the sudden stop and he groaned as he shook his head, looking up to find Axel still waiting for him, still in the exact same pose, a rare smile on her lips. Phil gritted his teeth and charged at her as she retreated, the two former-time cops running into the forest.

"Boy was that dumb," Stan sighed, rubbing between his eyes. "He might have lucked out on the looks department but I ain't so sure about the brains."

"He-he just jumped from a window," Preston gasped, staring at where the cyborgs had been. "He didn't even hesitate!"

"DAD!"

The three men turned just in time for Pacifica to rush at her father, wrapping her arms around him. "I was so scared!" she cried, Preston grunting from the pain of her tight squeeze. "Did she hurt you?"

Preston winced as she briefly loosened her grip, much to the relief of his aching ribs. He hesitated for a moment before putting a hand on her shoulder and patting her head gingerly. She looked up at him with teary eyes and he cleared his throat before putting an arm around her in a loose hug. "I'm fine," he told her, grunting as she tightened her grip again. He cleared his throat as he remembered that they weren't alone, three men (even if Preston only counted Soos as one on a technicality) and two children staring at them. "Forget about me," he said suddenly, pushing her away and taking a painful knee to get a better look at her as he held her by the arms. "How are you? When I saw her point the gun-"

Pacifica shook her head. "I'm fine, Dad," she promised, surprised at the concern in his voice and in his eyes, giving him a small smile. "Soos took us downstairs before she dropped her bomb or whatever that was-"

"It appeared to be some form of shockwave induced by-" Ford began before Mabel and Dipper shushed him.

"-and Phil blocked the bullets with his hand!" Pacifica finished, ignoring the scientist and his explanations.

"With his...hand?" Preston repeated, apparently still unable to believe what he'd seen with his own eyes. "And she shot him in the chest," he said, staring at the casings on the floor.

"Well he got shot twice after coming through the door so I think he's gotten used to it now," Mabel shrugged.

"We should probably check on those security dudes before we leave," Soos added. "Let them know we don't hold any grudges for shooting our new bud."

"Yeah, not exactly a situation they've been trained for," Dipper agreed. "They must be pretty guilty and stressed about the whole thing."

"Five," Preston said incredulously. "They shot him five times."

"Uh, yeah," Pacifica said slowly, starting to worry that her father might be in a state of shock. "Phil's had some...well I suppose you could say he's had some work done."

"I thought he looked suspiciously attractive," Preston muttered.

"Nah, that's all natural," Mabel said. She shrugged. "Surprising but true. Anyway, we were actually looking to have a little chat with you, Mister Northwest. As you saw for yourself, Phil's a pretty good-"

Mabel paused as Preston held up a finger to silence her. "Be quiet, little poor person," he told her. "I have to discuss something important." He turned away from an affronted Mabel to face Pacifica, his daughter glancing between them as Dipper quickly threw a hand over his sister's mouth, all members of the Pines family and even Soos glaring at the businessman, Ford saying something under his breath that made his brother nod grimly in agreement before delivering a rude gesture to the back of Preston's head.

"Pacifica," Preston said, his daughter glancing between her father and Stan's extended finger. "This Mister...Pink. Do you know if he's available?"

"Available?" Pacifica repeated, she and the others so surprised by his question that Mabel stopped struggling even as Dipper removed his licked palm from her mouth and Stan actually lowered his hand.

"Yes, available," Preston said irritably. He looked around his office, considering the casings on the floor, the scattered folders, the hole that had been punched into his wall, and the broken window. "Because I believe we may just have found the perfect candidate to be your bodyguard."

Pacifica blinked, scarcely able to believe her luck. "I don't know," she said, having inherited enough of her father's business savvy to know not to appear desperate for a deal. "But I think I might be able to convince him to consider it."

Preston nodded. "Good. See that you do."

"We can go ask him right now," Dipper added, Preston frowning as he realised he was in the presence of the unsanitary little boy who'd disrupted his party, dirtied his rug and been instrumental and starting his daughter's more rebellious attitude. "It hopefully won't be too hard to find him. Again."

"Assuming the peg-leg lady hasn't killed him," Stan muttered, earning a slap from Mabel.

Preston turned to glare at the older man. "That would be very inconvenient for me," he said coldly. "You and your family seem rather adept at dealing with the unnatural dangers of this town. Perhaps it would be best if you were to offer him your assistance?"

Stan opened his mouth to issue a retort but stopped at the last second, catching sight of Pacifica's wide, pleading eyes as she shook her head desperately. Stan rolled his eyes, wondering if he was getting soft in his old age. "Alright, bucko," he growled, pleased to see Preston bristle at being referred to as such. "We'll get right on that."

"To the Soosmobile!" Mabel cried, thrusting her grappling hook in the air.

"Actually, I think we'll have to make it on foot since they ran into the woods," Dipper pointed out.

"To the woods!" Mabel cried, thrusting her grappling hook in the air again without missing a beat. "We'll keep you updated if you want to stay with your dad," she added to a grateful Pacifica before the Pines family charged down the stairs.

"That was exceptionally convenient for us," Ford noted as they ran round the building and towards the woods, the path of broken branches and trees leaving an easy trail to follow.

Dipper, who immediately became paranoid whenever things started to look too good, said nothing for fear of jinxing their good fortune. Normally, he'd dismiss such actions as ridiculous. But this was Gravity Falls and the ridiculous was pretty believable.

* * *

Phil barrelled through the wood, his metal arm held in front to knock aside any trees or bushes as he chased after Axel. He ignored the growing number of cuts and rashes he was receiving on his face and arm from the growing number of branches and thorns on the side of the path he was making. Thankfully, the animals of Gravity Falls assumed that the heavy footsteps and ripping of wood meant that a young Manotaur was coming and easily avoided him.

Phil gritted his teeth as he saw the flash of black armour or metal that proved he was still on target. A part of him knew that she was obviously goading him, leading him to somewhere where she could fight him on a more equal footing or maybe even trap him. But most of him didn't care. This was the woman who'd framed him, sent him to prison, ruined his name, cost him his job and even denied him from attending his daughter's birthday. He thought of the crime scenes he'd seen in the future, the death and destruction at the Cult's hands. He thought of an eighteen year-old he loved more than anything, terrified that he'd never get to hold her again. He thought of a fourteen year-old you'd ran to save a father who didn't love her nearly enough, only to find herself staring down the barrel of a gun, lucky to survive. And he thought of Axel's metal leg, promising himself that this time she'd lose much more.

The trees disappeared suddenly and he saw a building straight ahead, just catching Axel vault the wire fence and dash inside. Phil didn't bother vaulting, he just tore it aside and approached the building warily. It seemed to be an abandoned convenience store and as he glanced up at the name of the building, he recalled watching holovids with his family, probes sent backwards in time to broadcast historical events to the masses after editing. Including most of the adventures of the Pines family and their allies, even if the temporal storm made it difficult to record anything after the events of Weirdmageddon. He remembered a story involving two elderly ghosts and sighed, both frustrated with the thought of potentially dealing with the undead and from the sudden realisation that this was the adventure where his daughter's (in his opinion) unhealthy obsession started. 

He turned back to the building and considered his options. He could always just punch down one of the walls, but that would give away his position immediately, giving Axel plenty of opportunities to fire at him while he waited for the rubble to clear. He hadn't actually seen a weapon from her yet but it would be stupid to assume she didn't have one, especially since it could have been held in that new tricked-up leg of hers. The front offered a bit too much visibility, too many windows. There would probably be a door at the back. That was the smart option. However, he was perfectly aware that Axel had been trained in the exact same manner and was smarter with even more experience to boot.

His plasma pistol seemed ineffective against her armour, so getting in close would be key. Even before his cybernetics, he had been good at close quarters and with them he should be more than a match for Axel. Assuming the leg and armour were her only new toys. Maybe smashing through the wall was the best option? It was a stupid idea and it might take her by surprise that he would even consider it. Then again, she'd called him an idiot plenty of times so she probably wouldn't put it past him.

He rubbed his brow. He was second-guessing himself. The really smart option was to wait for backup; the Pines were probably on their way. But they might not be and he honestly wasn't willing to risk the lives of civilians, especially when, he could admit it to himself at least, so much of this was a personal vendetta. He pulled out a coin, one of the last pieces of currency he'd managed to find, and tossed it in the air. It landed tails so he decided to go through the back.

The door was locked with a chain and a rusted padlock that probably could have been broken with a strong kick from human legs so it crumbled easily in his metal grip. He proceeded carefully, checking the corners of the room before closing the door behind him. He winked until his cybernetic eye settled on the night vision setting, giving him a perfectly clear picture of the room as he moved forward, his plasma pistol in his human hand. He was just an okay shot when he used his biological arm and eye to aim, but he preferred to leave his left arm free; it was much more useful and durable than the other and besides, if he did have to make an excellent shot he'd just swap the pistol over.

He tried the door that led to the shop itself, wincing when he heard the creak of the aged hinges. But his heavy footfalls would have given his position away regardless so it wasn't a total loss. He ducked between the aisles, scanning them all for Axel when he heard a sound behind him and spun round just in time to see a can of old food bounce off the floor.

"Idiot," he heard Axel hiss behind him as he realised too late it was a distraction and felt something jab into his back before there was a concussive blast and he was flung into the freezers, the glass shattering and burst bags of ice scattering along the floor. Phil grunted and turned to face her, seeing no one in the abandoned shop. He shook his head to clear his throbbing brain, cursing himself for being so stupid. A cloaking field in the armour. Of course the plasma resistance wouldn't have been the only upgrade in her armour. So many upgrades at once were illegal and difficult to maintain but the Cipher Cult had always had a shocking amount of technology behind their top-ranking members.

He stepped out of the freezer, the ice cubes shattering under his weight as he kept his back to the wall and winked to the thermal vision but saw nothing. Then he winked to the omnispectrascopic vision and she became visible just in time for him to see her metal limb collide with his temple, somehow having the energy to knock even him off his feet and crashing into an aisle, knocking them down like dominos. He barely propped himself onto his elbow before another blow connected with his chest and he was sent flying to the other end of the store, landing on a stall that buckled under his weight.

Phil groaned and tried to get to his feet again, only to feel a pressure at the top of his head before a pulse tore through the room and his cybernetics suddenly went off, rendering him a one-eyed, one-armed man unable to even lift his own head.

"Not so tough now, are we?" Axel said as his one arm floundered, trying to reach for his pistol. "Look at you. You know, I hated you for taking away my leg but now I can see just how lucky I am." She kicked him over to his back so he could see her, watching him silently for a moment as he tried to push her metal limb off his chest. "You really are pathetic," she sighed as Phil gave up trying to push her leg away, instead reaching for something to use as a weapon, unable to even turn his neck to see what was within reach. She lifted her peg leg, ready to deliver the fatal blow, only to pause suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to her. "What will Mary think when she learns you couldn't even protect Pacifica Northwest? Some guardian you turned out to be."

Phil's fingers finally brushed at something and he threw it at her head with a defiant yell, Axel taking a step back at it slapped her face and burst open, showering them both in a sparkling pink mist that made them cough and rub their eyes as it hit everywhere.

Axel stared at the bright packet in her hands before she turned back to Phil, an eyebrow raised. "Is that it?" she demanded. "I mention your daughter, threaten the little blonde bimbo, and you throw candy at me?" She sneezed, wiping at her mouth as she blinked rapidly. "You're a total disgrace to..." She frowned, shaking her head until she caught sight of her reflection in the window. "Whoa...what...what are you?" she asked, reaching a hand out to touch her mirror image as a thoroughly confused Phil felt his cybernetics start to come back online and warily got to his feet. "Are...are you my daddy?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"What," said Phil, staring at her as he gathered his plasma pistol and approached her warily, "the actual - fudge?" he asked as the walls turned to the sugary treat and frogs appeared on his shoulders, offering to teach him Spanish. Then all thoughts of Axel, his duty, and even reality were pushed aside as the ground surged beneath him, lifting him high into the air, only to dip suddenly and he was on the biggest slide in the world, giggling like a maniac.

Soos and the Pines family finally reached the abandoned Dusk 2 Dawn and burst through the front doors to see Phil lying on his back, his legs and arms in the air as he screamed, "WHEEEEEE!" over and over again at the top of his lungs. 

"Oh no!" Soos gasped, putting his hands over his mouth in horror. "She killed his brain!"

"I don't think that's what happened," Dipper sighed, holding up a packet of expired hallucinogenic candy.

"Ah." Mabel sucked her teeth. "That's problematic. But at least he's happy!" she added, seeing the joy on the drooling man's face.

"I...don't understand what's happening," Ford said, not an easy thing for him to admit.

"Now you know how I feel every time you talk to McGucket," Stan grunted. "I swear, I understood him more when he was marrying raccoons."

"It looks like Phil's been hit by some Smile Dip," Dipper explained. "It's this out of date candy that has...some side-effects."

"Boy does it ever!" Mabel grinned. "I had a rest on a giant tongue, met a giant dog who let me eat her paws, and rode on the back of an armed dolphin who vomited more arms that turned into dolphin faces that spat out rainbow beams as we flew through time! Totally not worth the come-down, though," she said, her grin vanishing. "And you know it must be bad to make me say that. I almost asked Stan to take me to a hospital and get my stomach pumped, before I realised he's too cheap to take me to a real one and would probably try to do it himself."

"You know me well, Pumpkin," Stan said, ruffling her hair as he smiled broadly.

"Stanley, we need to have another serious conversation about your duties as a caretaker," Ford told his brother as he scanned the shop. "I can't see Axel anywhere. Do you think she's fled?"

"If Phillip got splashed around during their fight, maybe she got hit by the Smile Dip too?" Dipper offered. "If that happened, she might have jumped back to the future before she felt too many effects, or maybe she just has a time-limit on how long she can stay here to avoid the temporal storm?"

"Possible," Ford agreed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Still, at least Mister Pink seems content. We should probably return him to the Shack, cleanse him of...whatever this is...and then prepare him for appearing before Mister Northwest." He shrugged. "How hard can that be?"

There was a deafening crash and they turned back to see that there was a massive hole in the wall and Phillip Pink was running for the forest, whooping and giggling all awhile. 

"You just had to ask, didn't you?" Stan growled, Ford faltering under the glares of his family, including Dipper.

"Gonna be honest, dawg," Soos said, clapping the suddenly sheepish scientist on the back. "I'm so glad I wasn't the one to Soos things up for a change!" 

* * *

"Fear me and tremble!" Lord Average screamed, raising his hammer at the opposing heroes who had thwarted his scheme again and again.

"We are too pretty to surrender!" declared Lady Prettyface, leader of the Pretty Dozen, her golden eyes shining brightly even in the heat of battle. “We shall fight on!”

“Huzzah!” agreed Madam Bigbottom, the magical powerhouse of the Pretty Dozen, raising her wand. “The Heroes of Okayville shall fight on forever!”

“Huzzah!” agreed Phillip Pink, handsome knight and third and final member of the Pretty Dozen, his sword held high in celebration at being part of such a noble group.

“Curse you and you’re unwillingness to immediately surrender to my whims!” Lord Average hissed at them. “But little did you all know that the real reason I was gathering the broken pieces that made up the Staff of Bad Magic...was so that I could build it!” He dropped his hammer, instead brandishing a long, black staff. “Behold true power!” Lord Average screamed, unleashing the flaming bolts of acidic ice lightening at the heroes.

Madam Bigbottom raised her wand high in the air, creating a magical shield to protect herself and her allies, but one bolt slid through the barrier, striking Lady Prettyface on her pretty face.

“NO!” Phil cried out, seeing the hero, mentor, best friend and potential love interest he’d known for four days fall to the ground. He rushed to meet her and held her as he wept openly, a hand to her cheek.

“Will it...scar?” she asked him, coughing loudly as the magic burned, froze, and melted her face.

“We’ll get you fixed!” Phil promised her through his tears. “I love you, Lady Prettyface! I always have!”

“I have loved you too,” she said through a cough. “But now you must let me go. For if I do not have my pretty face, then I cannot bear to live in this bright, hopeful world.”

“Don’t say that!” Phil begged her urgently, his voice catching. “We have magic that can bring the dead back! I’m ninety-nine percent sure we can fix your face!”

“That is a risk that I cannot take,” she said quietly. “But you must live on! Defeat Lord Average! And remember what I have always taught you…”

“That true beauty lies within,” Phil said, feeling his heart break. 

“Yes,” she said, her hand falling from his face. “That’s...right…”

Phil let out a howl of despair as her eyes became black X’s and the love of his life for less than a week died in his arms. But through his despair, he heard the maniacal cackle of Lord Average, saw Madam Bigbottom struggling to keep her shield up and in the distance saw the little town of Okayville and realised his duty was not yet done.

Phil turned to his arch-nemesis and felt the tears running down his face, the snot streaming down his upper lip and into his mouth and realised this would not do. So he wiped his eyes and face and spat the despairing snot out of his mouth, but in a sexy way.

“Behold my BEAUTY!" Phil roared, tearing his armour off with practiced ease.

"No!" screamed Lord average, shielding himself from the stunning vision, the ultimate magical item falling from his fingers. "It burns my eyes and makes me feel unhappy about myself!"

"Oh, Lord Average," Phil sighed, approaching the plain man, seeing that he wasn't truly evil, just misunderstood, and that all the counties he'd invaded had really been a cry for help. "I forgive you for all the people you’ve killed."

"Really?" gasped Lord Average, his eyes shining with the hope of redemption. "Even the orphans?"

"Even them," Phil said, nodding acceptingly as he put a hand on his former-foe’s shoulder. "And I'll even teach you to be beautiful."

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be as beautiful as you,” Lord Average said, his voice heavy with dejection.

“Probably not,” Phil agreed, trying to be realistic and truthful. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t try,” he said.

“I...I love you Phillip Pink,” Lord Average sighed. “I always have.”

“And I you,” Phil answered, putting his hands around the back of the other man’s head and leaning forward, puckering his lips expectantly.

“GET HIM OFF ME GET HIM OFF ME!” Stan bellowed, trying to push the puckering Irishman away from him. “FOR GOD’S SAKE, HIT HIM WITH MORE OF THE JUNK!”

“I’ll do it after the kiss,” Mabel promised, her camera raised to her eye.

Pacifica swiped at the last goblin her dart rifle, causing the humanoid to flee and allowing her to return the weapon to its intended purpose, firing another dart into the Irishman’s neck.

Phil’s eyes flew open, changed back from green to blue, and he saw what he was in the process of doing, letting out a horrified yelp before pushing the other man away. “Even I have some standards!” Phil cried loudly. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed with a loud thud.

“Oh, yeah?” Stan snarled, swiping his hat off the ground and getting to his feet. “Well...at least...er...at least I’m still conscious!” he yelled, shaking a fist at the prone cyborg. Then he turned to Mabel, still furious. “Mabel, the next time I ask for help when another man’s trying to ram his tongue down my throat, I expect you to do it, not stand there and take pictures!”

“But I was going to use the photos to blackmail you into taking me and Dipper out more often!”

Stan paused. “That answer fills me with equal parts annoyance and pride,” he said.

“I learned from the best!” Mabel said, beaming at him proudly and tipping that balance further in the direction she wanted.

“He does know she’s manipulating him, right?” Pacifica asked Dipper.

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed, seeing that all of the goblins were finally gone and allowing him to remove his ushanka and check it wasn’t damaged in the fight. “Which just makes him even prouder. Stan’s weird like that.”

“Should we, like, carry the big guy back to my truck?” Soos asked. 

“No, we should do it here,” Ford said, removing a syringe from his coat. “His cybernetics make him exceptionally difficult to lift. This should wake him up just long enough to explain the situation and allow him to walk to the truck himself.”

“Good idea,” Dipper agreed. “Last time it took eight of us to carry him to the side of the road and even then we had to drag him most of it.”

Ford approached the prone cyborg and injected the syringe into his human arm before stepping back. After a few minutes, Phil’s eyes flew open again and he jumped to his feet with an alarmed yell, stopping only when he saw that he was surrounded by Soos, Pacifica and the Pines family, deep in the forest, the moon giving some light through the branches of the trees. “What-what happened?” he asked, looking around. “Last thing I remember was this terrible nightmare where I was this close to kissing Stanley!”

“That was two minutes ago,” Pacifica told him. “Fortunately for everyone except Mabel, you never got that far.”

“Hang on, it’s starting to come back to me,” Phil said, rubbing his head. “I was fighting Axel. She had me pinned. That leg of hers...It let her switch off my cybernetics. I was helpless. Then she suddenly started acting...weird. Then the whole world became...freaky.”

“That would be the Smile Dip,” Mabel reasoned. “Found it all over the shop, must have hit you both. Axel had disappeared by the time we arrived. You were hallucinating all over the place and we were about to help but then _ somebody _!” Mabel turned and glared at Ford, the whole family and Pacifica joining in, “Thought it would be a perfect time to jinx it! Then you ran into the woods before we could stop you.”

“I said I was sorry,” Ford said petulantly, folding his arms in annoyance.

“So what did you see when you were under?” Mabel asked Phil out of curiosity. “Any horrific mixtures of dolphin and man or was that just me?”

“Um, not that I recall,” Phil said slowly, glancing at her family in concern but only seeing their indifferent expressions which caused him even more concern. “Uh, I became a knight and joined an adventurous duo and helped them fight against this cliched villain who ended up killing my - wait.” Phil frowned. “Lady Prettyface kept saying that beauty was on the inside, but then decides she’d rather die than live with a scarred face? What a hypocrite! I’m glad she died, I can do so much better. But why the hell did I go straight for Lord Average? Madam Bigbottom had a big bottom! That’s way better than a pretty face!”

“Yep,” Dipper agreed immediately, then snapped his jaw shut in alarm as he realised he’d said it out loud.

“Aha, fellow butt man, eh?” Phil grinned, nodding approvingly and completely destroying any hopes the boy had of keeping his preferences private. “Good for you! Big bums are the best.”

"Are not!" Pacifica said indignantly.

"You tell him, flat-cheeks!" Mabel yelled in support of her ship. 

“Let’s...move on from this conversation,” Ford said as Dipper scratched his chin in embarrassment and Pacifica glared at Mabel. “We’ve given you a booster to counter the effects of hallucinogens, but a good night’s sleep is probably what you need most.”

“Yeah, probably,” Phil agreed, scratching at his messy beard and stretching his aching muscles. He glanced up at the sky and saw that the moon was high in the sky. “Felt like I was under the effects for four days! How long’s it really been?”

There was a series of uncomfortable glances and awkward coughs as the Mystery Shack crew looked at each other. “Um, actually, dude…” Soos began, bravely offering himself to deliver the bad news.

“What? Wait - are - are you serious?” Phil demanded. “It took you lot four bloody days to find me? I’m a two-metre plus, redheaded cyborg with an Irish accent! How hard did you bloody look?”

“Hey, we had other things going on, alright?” Stan snapped. “The weird crap doesn’t always come one at a time! We had to sort out more things with Northwest and his insurance, the gnomes, goblins and other annoying creatures were waging war, there was a musical phenomenon in town-”

“You stopped searching for me to go see a musical?” Phil cried, anger and hurt in his voice.

“No, he means the whole town turned into a musical,” Dipper explained. “People singing, dancing, background music that came out of nowhere. It was awful.”

“I liked it!” Mabel said happily. “You got to show off your decent singing voice and I dazzled with my dances. My favourite was that duet you and Pacifica did, you know, ‘Unrequited Love!’ Really showed off your surprisingly good singing skills, Bro-Bro.” She cleared her throat and began to sing a few of the verses. _ “There’s a secret I’m keeping, one that everyone knows-” _

“Nope!” yelled Dipper, rushing over and clamping a hand over his sister’s mouth. “None of that! Once was bad enough!”

Mabel grinned under her brother’s sweaty hand, fully intending to lick it until he released her and then continue the song at the top of her lungs. Then she glanced over her brother’s shoulder and saw Pacifica casually reload the tranquiliser rifle with calculated ease, putting the butt to her shoulder and setting her feet apart, the look in her eyes leaving no doubt about her intention. 

“Anyway,” Ford said loudly as Dipper gingerly took his hand away and was obviously surprised to find no musical continuation until from his sister. “The point is that we finally found you. And that was no easy task. It turned out that while we were otherwise preoccupied, you had encountered a pack of goblins and gremlins, bested their Gremloblin champions, and anointed yourself their queen to use them as your personal army to defeat the gnomes and fairies.”

“Oh,” said Phil, unsure how else to reply to that. “That’s a pretty long high,” he said after a while. “Didn’t think I’d been hit with enough Smile Dip to last four days.”

“You weren’t,” Stan grunted. “After you’d crowned yourself, they fed you some potions and mushrooms, both of the magical variety. Jeff and his gnomes asked for our help and we figured that stopping you would stop the war.”

“Cut the tail off the snake and the head dies” Soos said, nodding sagely. “Think that’s illegal to do now, though. And pretty cruel. Unless it’s in self-defence, then mutilation is perfectly legal! Ain’t that right, Mister Pines?”

“...Anyway, despite what you’d think, it’s pretty hard to find even a guy like you in these woods,” Stan grunted, refusing to answer Soos as Mabel and Ford looked at him reproachfully. “Them chemicals were seriously messing with your brain, meaning there was no rhyme or reason to your tactics and actually making you harder to track, especially without Wendy or her family here to give us a hand. So Mabel got the bright idea that the best person to find a lunatic would be another lunatic.”

“I never said that!”

“It’s about the gist of what you said, and it’s still a pretty accurate description!”

“Wait, who are we talking about?” Phil asked, the chemicals in his brain making it difficult to keep up.

“That would be I, good sir!” a commanding voice called out and Phil turned to see a tall, thin man with a dark suit jacket, popped collar and mustard bowtie posing heroically atop a boulder. Or at least it would have been heroic if he were wearing trousers. “President Sir Lord Quentin Trembley the Third, Esquire!” he declared, pointing a finger at himself.

Phil stared at him. “Have you been silently standing there this whole time?” 

“I was waiting for the right queue to make my entrance as dramatic as possible!” the eccentric president declared. “When Congresswoman Mabel happened upon me during my annual fight with the air, she beseeched me for aid and I came at once! I even delayed my dual, such was her desperation for aid. Curse you, oxygen!” he cried, shaking a fist at the sky. “One day I shall teach myself to be free of your stranglehold on humanity! And when I do, I shall teach the rest of America, finally allowing us to win the war against sardines!”

Phil blinked. “Am I still high?”

“Neigh, good sir!” Trembley said, turning to the cyborg with a frown. “You merely find yourself flummoxed in the presence of greatness! But back to my previous and engaging tale. When the Congresswoman explained her dire situation I - like any good President would - immediately dropped all thoughts of trade deals, national security and human rights considerations to help a person I barely knew! It is what makes this country so great!” He drew in a deep breath and gave a salute to his country, a tear gathering in his eye.

“I think I miss being high,” Phil said quietly.

“How do you think we feel?” Dipper muttered, everyone but Mabel and Soos murmuring their agreement.

“I jumped atop the back of the nearest bear in order to launch a surprise attack against you in the dead of night, just like any honourable gentleman would,” Trembley continued, unabashed. “After the beast attempted to maul me, I scolded it thoroughly, declaring it would never find work as a horse again! Then I tried again with a different bear. After the third, I happened to come across your camp. Where I challenged you to a dual of silliness as I waited for the rest of my party to appear.”

“Which took a while, because all those bears came after us when he ran off,” Stan growled. “Almost ran out of darts by the time we finally caught up with him and found you!”

“I brilliantly distracted you in the meantime,” Trembley went on. “During our battle of lack-of-wits, I slipped behind you, lowered your pants until your buttocks were bare, and then proceed to slap them with a salmon I kept on hand for just such an occasion!”

There was a silence in the woods as they all stared at the boastful madman. “Why would you do that?” Pacifica finally asked.

“I do not know!” 

“Well that explains something at least,” Phil said, gingerly touching his sore cheeks.

“Can we go now?” Dipper asked his family desperately. “I’m already going to be paying a fortune in psychiatry bills when I’m older, and these conversations are just making it worse.”

“Yeah, hang on,” Mabel said, clearing her throat before approaching her favourite President. “You have done your position proud, Sir Lord Trembley!” She told him. “Gravity Falls thanks you! America thanks you! More importantly, _ I _thank you!”

“Thank you, Congresswoman!” Trembley said, thrusting his chest out. “But I do what I do, not for the thanks I receive, the money it earns me, nor even for the people of America. I do it because it amuses me at the time and makes me jolly happy!” And with that declaration of his motivations, he jumped backwards with a final cry of, “Trembley away!” and disappeared into the thickets. 

“I miss the future,” Phil sighed for the thousandth time since he’d arrived in the past. “I miss Time Baby. He might have murdered you if you annoyed him, but at least there was reason to his oppression.”

“Now I know why the government let people think my ancestor was the real town founder,” Pacifica said. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they made the right call.”

“Do you think he’s going to be alright?” Soos asked as they heard the sound of angry yells and animal roars in the direction the President had leapt.

“I don’t care,” Ford sighed, Stan rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “I really don’t.”

“Let’s just put all this behind us and pretend we found Phillip some other way,” Dipper suggested. 

“I’m down with that.”

“Good idea.”

“I’m game.”

“It worries how easily you lot just accept these bizarre situations,” Phil said as they marched through the woods.

Pacifica shrugged. “You’ll get used to it. I did.”

“That’s what worries me!”

They made their way back to the pickup truck, following the signal from the tracking device Ford had made sure to leave behind on the driver’s seat. They explained the whole story to Phil as they went; their struggle to find him, the distractions they faced from the musical numbers and the gnomes pleading for their help against the mysterious giant who was leading the opposing forces. 

After they’d finally banished the muses who were spreading the musical ‘joy’ to the town, (they’d come in search of their golden instruments which had mysteriously ended up in Stan’s luggage after he and Ford had found their temple) the Mystery Shack Crew were able to turn their full attention to helping their diminutive friends(?) against their new foe.

When they discovered that Phil was this supposed giant, they had tried to reason with him until they realised that was impossible, instead just settling for helping the gnomes survive. It was only by sheer luck that Mabel encountered Trembley and asked for his assistance, much to the despair of everyone else.

Finally, there was a concluding battle. Stan, Ford and Pacifica with the tranquilizer rifles, Soos with a shovel, Mabel with her grappling hook, Dipper with one of Ford’s magnet guns, and Trembley leading the charge by standing on the backs of two very annoyed badgers. When the opposing forces eventually retreated, the Mystery Shack Crew convinced their own individual of unquestionable insanity to track Phil before he could regroup his army. 

“And all that time I thought I was fighting the forces of evil, unaware that I was in fact the villain myself,” Phil said as they reached the truck. “There’s probably a lesson in all that, but I don’t know what it is. So, what’s happening with Northwest?” he asked as he clambered into the back. “Axel didn’t hurt him too much, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah, Dad’s fine,” Pacifica said. “In fact, things turned out pretty well for us in that department.” She cleared her throat. “Mostly.”

“There’s some good news and bad news, Phil,” Mabel jumping up to sit on the side of the truck. “Which do you want to hear first?”

“The bad news,” Phil grumbled as the Stans disarmed the rifles and put them in the back beside him. “If the good news comes last then hopefully it can cheer me up.”

“I’ll pretend you said it the other way because that’s more dramatic and easier to tell,” Mabel said, ignoring her brother’s annoyed grunt. “The good news is that Preston was so pleased by what he saw, he’s decided to give you an interview already!” she said with a grin. “The bad news is that it’s tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Phil yelled. “That’s barely any time to prepare anything!”

“Actually, it’s after midnight, so it’s more accurate to say that it’s today,” Ford said, glancing at his watch.

“How the hell am I supposed to prepare for an interview in that amount of time?” Phil demanded.

“Yeah, we were wondering that too, dawg,” Soos said. “Then Mabel came up with this brilliant solution!”

“Not the word I’d use,” Dipper muttered, earning a sympathetic look from Pacifica.

“I am very suspicious,” Phil said, narrowing his eyes.

“Aw, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Mabel said, patting his head affectionately. “Dipper’s just being a bit of a grouch.” She threw her brother a look which he returned with a glare of his own. “You know how teenagers are,” Mabel said, returning to Phil while her brother continued to scowl behind her back. “Or at least, you will.”

“You said that in a very deliberate tone that fills me with dread,” Phil said, the worry apparent on his face.

Mabel chuckled in a way that didn’t relieve his tension. “You see, Phil, I gave it some thought and then I figured that if we can’t get you ready for the interview with Pacifica’s dad then we can get the next best thing. How would you feel about regaining some youth, returning to the days where-”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Dipper cried, throwing his arms in the air with impatience. “She wants us to swap bodies!” he told the Irishman. “I’ve been practising for the interview in your stead since we were worried we couldn’t find you in time! There’s this stupid carpet back at the Shack that lets people swap bodies. She wants us to use it so I can go in as you while you spend the day as me.” He turned to his sister, his glare unwavering even as she blinked at him in surprise. “You see how easy that was?” he snapped.

Mabel faltered under his gaze, the others sharing startled looks at his sudden hostility. “Dipper, I don’t-” she tried to say before he turned his back to her and jumped off the truck.

“We should get going,” he growled as he opened the back door. “The sooner we get to the Shack, the sooner we can get this over with.” Then he slammed the door shut, propping his elbow against the window and rested his head on his hand as he glared out the window.

Pacifica and Phil both felt like intruders in that moment, the man glad he would be making the journey in the back instead of stuck between the siblings, the girl envying his seclusion. He gave her a questioning glance but she only shook her head and offered a confused shrug in answer. 

Soos rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly while Stan and Ford shared an uncomfortable glance as they looked between their family members, considering Dipper’s glare and the surprised hurt in Mabel’s eyes. “It’s okay, sweetie,” Stan told her gently. “It’s just hormones and junk. I’ll talk with him later.”

“We both will,” Ford added. “He’ll most likely have calmed down by tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Mabel said quietly. “Yeah, he probably will.” But when they got in the truck, she sat at the passenger side of the front, the seat furthest from her brother.

* * *

_ Author’s note: And now you know that the spelling of this story's title was intentional. _

_ But do you wish to hear the musical numbers of Gravity Falls? Songs that include: _

  * _ A Girl and Her Pig - (Mabel) _
  * _ Brother, I’d Hit You if You Weren’t so Handsome - (Stanley and Stanford) _
  * _ Mad Scientist At Work - (Fiddleford) _
  * _ Troublesome Twin - (Dipper and Mabel) _
  * _ Silly In Psychiatry - (Mabel and Professor Passuum) _
  * _ Normal as it Gets - (Tad Strange) _
  * _ Unrequited Love - (Dipper and Pacifica) _
  * _ She’ll be Mine One Day - (Toby Determined) _
  * _ Being Bad Felt So Good - (Gideon and Pacifica) _
  * _ I’m Happy, I Just Don’t Want People To See It - (Robbie) _
  * _ Redheads Are The Best - (Dipper and Mendez) _
  * _ Aw Man, I Don’t Know What To Sing About - (Soos) _
  * _ Troublesome Twin (Reprise) - (Stanley and Stanford) _
  * _ I’m Gonna Murder Those Muses, The Gold Wasn’t Worth This - (Stanley) _

_ And more! _

_ You can find them at: _

_www.thiswebsitedoesnotexistIcan’twritelyricstosavemylifegoaheadandmakeupyourownbecausethey’dbemuchbetterthananythingIcoulddo.org _

_Have fun!_


	5. Chapter 5

“Pacifica was kind enough to give us a list of the kind of questions her dad would likely ask you,” Mabel explained the next morning, tapping at the whiteboard she had carried into the living room. “There was a little debate about who should inhabit your body. Stan’s the best liar but he’s not so good at keeping his temper in check and really doesn’t like Pacifica’s dad. Ford said he would be best but we were worried he’d ruin the whole thing by giving long speeches and sounding too much like a scientist. Dipper, on the other hand, could get the balance of smart but not too-smart just right so he kindly volunteered.”

“Not how I remember it,” Dipper muttered.

Mabel threw him a look before returning to Phil, the Irishman sitting in the living room and finishing the first cereal he’d had in months. “Ignore Mister Grouch, this is the best option we have. We thought about sticking a thingie in your ear and talking to you through that, but Pacifica says the factory’s designed to make it hard for things like that to work. Stops corporate espionage or people looking stuff up when they’re meant to be working.”

“Hmph,” said Phil, unhappy with the whole situation. The plan wasn’t exactly foolproof and even if it had been, he was not looking forward to spending an afternoon as a sweaty, skinny teenager. But he still seemed to be happier about it than said teenager was at turning into a tall, muscular cyborg for some reason.

The boy was sulking behind his sister, his arms crossed as he scowled at the world in general. The tension between the siblings had been palpable when they had finally returned to the Shack in the wee hours of the morning after dropping Pacifica at her house to sneak back to her room. Even when they returned home, Dipper had just declared he was tired and going straight to bed, walking upstairs before either of their great-uncles could say anything.

There had been awkward and frustrated looks exchanged between the Pines family before they said their goodbyes and the older men left while Soos, Phil and Mabel went inside. The two kind souls led Phil to the Livingroom and made sure to give him a blanket and a few pillows to make sleeping on the couch easier. Phil just had time to hope that a night’s sleep would be enough to mend their relationship before he closed his eyes and suddenly awoke to morning light and Mabel kindly offering him breakfast before she explained more details about the plan.

“So what am I going to do about clothes?” Phil asked. “I can’t exactly go dressed like this.” He plucked at the tattered and unwashed question mark shirt.

“I’ve asked our Grunkles to help you out with that,” Mabel answered happily. “We’ve got a tailor coming in to meet you. We’ve even requested a stylist to restore you to your previous, non-hobo-looking glory! You’ll get a suit, a good scrubbing, and a happy, happy spa day!”

“That’s my sister,” Dipper muttered dryly. “Wants everybody to always be happy.”

Mabel threw him another look, this time more hurt than annoyed. “You going to finally tell me why you’re mad at me, or do I have to guess it?” she asked, not bothering to keep the pain out of her voice.

The twins locked eyes for a long while, Phil trying to shrink his large form in a poor attempt of hiding from the strained atmosphere, wondering if it might be better for him to just make an excuse and leave the room.

Thankfully, the tension was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and the calls of the older twins searching for their family.

“Coming!” Mabel yelled, turning away from her brother to go to her great-uncles. “Dipper, you can clean up our breakfast plates and Phil’s bowl since you clearly need some time away from me,” she said, not even glancing back as she briskly walked out the room.

Dipper clenched his teeth as he glared at where his sister had been, wanting to yell out a retort. But he was scared of where that would lead, already feeling bad enough for the way he was treating her, wishing his retorts or criticisms would lessen his anger and knowing they didn’t. 

But he kept on making them anyway and didn’t know how to stop. So instead, he sighed and took the bowl as he said something unpleasant under his breath.

“You want to talk about what’s going on between you and your sister?” Phil asked quietly as he followed him to the kitchen.

“Nope,” Dipper grunted as he turned on the sink. “None of your business.”

“True,” Phil agreed. “But if you can’t talk to her about it, you should talk to someone. You barely know me and sometimes a stranger’s easier to talk to than a friend.”

“What’s the point?” Dipper grunted as he gathered the plates from the kitchen table and started scrubbing them vigorously. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe not,” Phil said. “Then again, I didn’t think a thirteen-year old would understand what I was going through with my ex-wife. You proved me wrong.”

That gave Dipper pause. He thought of what the man had gone through, how he had fought and almost died to prove himself innocent and then been trapped in a different time while dealing with the knowledge that his ex-wife had someone else in her life. A very different story to his, but with enough vague similarities to make empathy possible

Then he thought of his anger, the way it rose and surged suddenly and out of nowhere, and then dissipated just as quickly. At least, that’s what had been happening for most of the last fortnight. But the last few days had been different. Now it didn’t fade as quickly and never completely. He had been short with the others as well as Mabel; Stan, Pacifica, Soos, even Melody and Ford. Stan had joked it was puberty. Mabel had joked he was suffering from Wendy withdrawal. He had stormed out of the room to go on a long walk just to get away from them both, ignoring their protests and apologies.

Finally, he thought of his conversations with Professor Passuum about the source of his anger and what could be done about it. And he didn’t like the answer she had given him, even if he agreed with it.

“It’s between Mabel and me,” Dipper said quietly, the sponge overflowing with soapy suds as he squeezed. “When I’m ready to talk, it’ll be with her.”

Phil cocked his head to the side as he considered the teenager angrily trying to vent his fury through the act of cleaning. “You remind me of my father.”

Dipper turned to face him, confused by the tone in his voice. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“He was a good man,” Phil said with devotion. “The best I’ve ever known. Brave. Kind. Honest. Loyal. If I end up being only half the man or father he was then I’ll die happy. But he had his flaws. He struggled with negativity. Didn’t like to say a bad word about anybody, not even when they deserved it. You’re not quite that bad, but he bottled things up too, which just made them worse. For him and others.” A strange look flashed over the foreigner’s face before he shook his head and messily cleared his throat. “Don’t be like my Da,” he told Dipper firmly. “Talk to someone. If you can’t talk to your sister yet then find someone else.”

Dipper sighed, recognising the advice as something he himself had told many others and that others had told him many times. But in the past he had always known that Mabel was there if no one else was. But this time Mabel would be the hardest person to talk to. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try.”

“Good lad,” said Phil, punching his arm affectionately. “Mary always said you were smart.” 

There was a yell from somewhere else in the house as Mabel summoned Phil, the man giving an exasperated sigh. “Ah, the yells of a teenage girl too used to getting her way,” he said, a melancholic smile on his lips. “Sometimes you’d do anything to get them to shut up.” The smile faded. “Then the silence hits you and suddenly you’d do anything to hear them even one more time.”

Dipper didn’t know what to say to that. But Phil didn’t seem to expect a response, he just left the room and Dipper returned to the sink, quickly cleaning as best he could, thinking that there had been truth in what the man said. 

He recalled a time when he and Mabel had fallen out last summer and, in the heat of the moment, demanded separate rooms, just like their living situation back home in Piedmont. But when he’d finally accomplished his goal in securing the room, Mabel’s absence had hit him harder than he’d expected and suddenly he missed how annoying she could be.

He frowned as he thought about that day. He still didn’t know what had happened between the two for Stan to choose the winner. He’d tried to ask Mabel several times but she just shuddered and whispered under her breath that was the day her childhood died. This raised even more questions so he tried to ask Stan one day towards the end of last summer. But the moment he’d explained to his great-uncle about the body-swap, a look of utter horror had passed over the man’s face and he’d suddenly cried out that he would close the Shack early and take everyone, including Wendy and Soos, out for ice cream on the condition that the subject was never raised again. That had obviously made the boy even more curious but Mabel and Wendy’s imploring eyes had made him agree and he hadn’t brought it up since.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard angry complaints in an Irish accent and he finished up the washing to find out what all the commotion was about, finding his family, Melody, and their new acquaintance in the parlour, the electron carpet laid out on the floor. 

“We’re doing this now?” Dipper asked in surprise. “But the interview's not until this afternoon!”

“Sixer and I discussed it on the drive from McGuckett’s,” Stan said, glancing at Mabel. “Figured that since the big guy’s got all those robotic parts we should do it early, give you time to practice with them. Don’t want you crushing Northwest’s hand while you’re trying to shake it.”

“It’s my left that’s cybernetic, not my right,” Phil muttered, folding his arms and pouting, looking as angry as Dipper had felt just a few minutes ago.

“You know what we mean,” Ford said. “We don’t want the kid ripping a door off its hinges or breaking a foot by stepping on it. The more time he spends as you, the less likely he’ll be to accidentally hurt someone.”

Phil gave an annoyed grunt but didn’t offer a challenge. Dipper shared his feelings about spending time in a body that wasn’t his but couldn’t deny their logic. But he was still a hormonal teenager and grumbled under his breath because he was going to do something he really didn’t want to.

“I see you haven’t cheered up,” Stan noted. “Keep this up and you’ll be turning into Robbie.”

“Oh come on, Stan, Dipper will never be that bad,” Mabel said loyally. “Or tall.” She elbowed her brother scowling brother playfully. “Look on the bright side, Dipper,” she urged him. “Now you’ll find out what it’s like to be tall with muscles. Maybe you’ll enjoy it so much it’ll motivate you to hit the weights back home! And besides,” she added, giving her brother a playful wink, “You could be ginger for a day. And you know what they say about redheads!”

“No,” said Phil, a redhead.

“Yes,” said Dipper, who was not a redhead but had looked up more pictures of them online than a boy his age should.

“Really?” Phil asked, intrigued. “What do they say about us?”

“...Lot’s of things,” Dipper answered evasively, his eyes darting about the room as the sweat gathered on his brow from the pressure of the many stares he was receiving, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut.

“Like what?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” said Dipper, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I think we should just get this over with,” Melody urged them, not at all comfortable with where this conversation was heading. “Rip the band-aid off and let the boys go about their business.”

“I concur wholeheartedly,” Ford said, wishing to spare his great-nephew from further embarrassment. “The longer we delay, the more difficult this will be.”

“You’re right,” Phil sighed, Dipper feeling relieved at the change in subject. “But I do have standards and there’s one thing I have to do before I trade bodies with the kid.” He walked over to Dipper and put his metal arm on the boy’s shoulder. “I need to do something I never thought I would ever have to do,” he said gravely as his fingers tightened. “I’m going to bathe a thirteen-year old boy.”

“Wait, what?” Dipper barely managed to say before he was flung over the cyborg’s shoulder and carried out of the room and up the stairs, reaching out and trying to cling to the walls, grabbing everything he could find in a futile attempt to stop the determined cyborg from carrying out his mission.

“Uh, are we just going to let that happen?” Melody asked as they barely heard the sound of the old bath running over the boy’s screams and protests. “I mean, a virtual stranger just declared he was going to wash a teenager against his will and then dragged him upstairs. Shouldn’t - shouldn’t we do something?”

The Pines family and Soos exchanged glances as they considered this.

“Well it ain’t like the rest of us haven’t been tempted,” Stan shrugged.

“I love the dude, but he does need to shower more,” Soos nodded.

“He has been extra stinky lately,” Mabel agreed, raising her voice over the sound of her brother’s screams. “Which is saying a whole heckuva lot.”

“Yes, his odour has become rather rank,” Ford half-shouted as violent splashing and sputterings were added to the noise. “I wonder if there’s some correlation between that, his temper, and the absence of Miss Corduroy?”

“Dunno, dawg,” Soos yelled. “All three of those things seem like a bit of a touchy subject for the little guy? Maybe we’d better leave it alone?”

Melody stared at her fiancé and the Pines family as they murmured and then shouted their agreement, obviously unconcerned by the shrieks from upstairs and making her wonder if she’d ever quite get used to the family she was about to marry into. “Well we should at least try and put it on hold!” she shouted, deciding she should at least attempt to rescue the poor boy herself. “There’s going to be a tour soon and we don’t want the customers getting freaked out by a child’s screams!”

“Don’t worry!” Soo yelled back, rubbing her arm. “We’ll tell them it’s the screams of a boy who was murdered here years ago, and if they listen closely they can still hear the sounds of him trying to escape the bathtub where he was brutally drowned! It’ll make it more fun for the kiddies!” And with a final wink, Soos lowered his eyepatch, straightened his fez, and walked out the parlour, ready to greet the day and the tourists with a smile.

“You okay, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel yelled at her great-uncle.

“I’m - I’m fine!” Stan roared back, his lower lip quivering as he wiped away a proud tear. “Just - just got something in my eye!”

Later, after the excited and delightfully spooked tourists had left, a thoroughly clean and positively seething Dipper came back downstairs, now dressed in clothes that hadn’t been worn for days on end, Phil close behind him. He glared at the others, his lip curling as they avoided eye-contact and busied themselves with the miscellaneous items in the house or staring at the ceiling. Dipper turned to the oldest man in the room.  _ “Et tu, Grunkle Ford?” _ he asked, his hero plucking at his collar uncomfortably as he felt the intensity in his protege’s stare. 

“Grunkle Ford didn’t eat two of anything, he’s been here the whole time,” Mabel said, reproachfully. “And if you washed and changed your clothes more, we might have come to your defence. Now get on the carpet - maybe you’ll calm down after your free of hormones.”

Dipper grunted but did as he was told, Phil joining him and they shuffled until they saw small sparks flying around their feet. Then Dipper slapped Phil’s hand as the rest watched with interest.

There was a flash of blinding light and when they blinked away the stars they immediately saw the change. Dipper’s body now stood straighter, his jaw set and his scrawny chest out, his arms by his side in a posture that would normally look ridiculous on the small, skinny, socially awkward, teenager but somehow now seemed to suit him. Phil’s body by contrast now seemed smaller, his back slightly hunched and his shoulders slumped, his brow creased and his mouth set in a frown of uncertainty as he glanced at the room.

“So this is what it’s like to be tall,” Dipper muttered, his voice very different from what he was used to.

“I can’t even remember being this wee,” Phil said, Dipper’s voice coming out in an Irish accent. “And why do I feel so funny?”

Stan burst out laughing, slapping his thigh as he bent over and clutched his stomach with one hand, the other pointing at Phil. “I bet you don’t feel half as funny as you sound!” he cried, his shoulders shaking as his laughter rang throughout the Shack. “Bet you ain’t feeling so top o’ the morning now, huh?” he cackled.

“Oh aye, bloody hilarious!” Phil snarled, his teeth bared and fists clenched, moving towards Stan until Mabel grabbed his collar and tried to hold him back. “ _ Top o’ the mornin’! Luck o’ the Irish’”  _ Phil sneered, dragging Mabel across the floor as even the unnaturally strong girl barely restrained the unbridled rage in her much skinnier twin’s body. “What, you think I don’t get that everywhere I go in this damn town?  _ Top o’ the mornin’! Luck o’ the _ \- just SHUT your FACE, you TOOL!”

“Yeesh!” said Stan, rolling his eyes. “Learn to take a joke!” He elbowed his brother. “Guess he doesn’t have an Irish sense of humour, huh?”

Phil finally broke free from Mabel and lunged at Stanley, only to be caught mid-air by Dipper putting his new physique to good use. “I will BREAK you!” Phil screamed, his jaws snapping at the very alarmed man. “I will ram these matchstick arms up that massive nose of yours and fiddle with that lump you call a brain! We’ll see who’s laughing then! It’ll be me! ME!”

“Just - just go, Stan,” Mabel sighed, rubbing her eyes in exasperation and feeling too tired for so early in the day. “Get the car running. We’ll send Dipper out soon.”

“Yeah, that’s right! Walk away!” Phil roared, shaking his fist as a chastened Stan backed out of the room. “I don’t need my limbs, I can kill you in seven different ways! You won't find my accent so funny then, will you?” 

“Wow,” said Soos as Phil continued to snarl and yell in Dipper’s arms. “Phil-Dipper’s even grumpier than Dipper-Dipper!”

Dipper-Dipper gingerly lowered Phil-Dipper to the floor, the man-turned-teenager panting with anger. Then he ran to the wall and let out a scream of fury and started attacking it. “WHY AM I SO EMOTIONAL?” he screamed as he punched and kicked the wallpaper before slumping to the floor in exhaustion. “And now I’m sad and I don’t know why! Where is all this coming from? Ugugh! So sad! And ANGRY! Why? I hate my life!” he sobbed, dropping his head into his forearms. “Puberty’s even worse than I remember!” he wailed.

“I don’t suppose this proves that your bad mood’s just down to hormones and we can now settle it in an awkward sibling hug?” Mabel asked her brother as the others tried to calm the deeply troubled man in the over-emotional body.

Dipper glanced down at his sister and said nothing, the edge of his mouth twitching in conflict.

“Nah,” Mabel said so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. “Didn’t think so.”

“I used to be beautiful!” Phil gasped through his tears. “Now look at me!”

“Gee, thanks,” said Dipper, already too critical of his body to require someone else adding to his insecurities. He turned to Ford. “Did you get the voice changers from McGucket?”

“Voice changers?” Melody asked, patting the boy...man...the upset person on the shoulder sympathetically.

“Dipper can’t do an Irish accent and we weren’t sure if Mister Pink could do an American one so I asked Fiddleford for his assistance,” Ford explained. He held up what looked like two nicotine patches. “These should act as a relay for Dipper and Mister Pink’s speech patterns, altering their vocal output to-”

“We’ll swap accents as well as bodies,” Dipper interrupted. “Look, can we go? Please? This has already been a bad day for me and it’s only making it worse by watching myself cry.”

“Uh, Doctor Pines, dude, Phil-Dipper isn’t going to be like this all day, is he?” Soos asked tentatively, watching the emotional wreck with concern. “Me and Melody have some junk to do for the Shack and Abuelita’s still recovering from throwing her hip out during her dance number. And Wendy won’t be back ‘till-”

“Curse you, Wendy Corduroy!” Phil yelled, shaking his fist at the ceiling. “You’re very name fills me with rage! I hate you and want to punch you in the face!”

“Wow,” said Soos. “I don’t know about you guys, but hearing Dipper insult Wendy might actually be the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Totally,” agreed Mabel, Ford and Melody nodding in agreement as Dipper scowled.

“I believe that Mister Pink’s condition is only temporary,” Ford told Soos, much to the relief of everyone. “I think his mind’s just overwhelmed by the abrupt change in physiology. Being assaulted by the chaotic impulses of puberty is no easy task, especially not when your mind’s telling you that you’ve already been through this once and shouldn’t have to endure it again. He should be as moody and frustrating as a normal teenager before the hour is up. Now we had best leave, Dipper needs as much practice as he can get before his first interview.”

Phil’s head shot up. “Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah! You aren’t taking my body yet! We need to lay down some rules.” He cleared his throat and got unsteadily to his feet. “Number one,” he said, listing them off his fingers. “No doing anything that you aren’t old enough to do in this body. That includes gambling or alcohol.”

“I’m not into either of those things,” Dipper said with a frown.

“Maybe not, but I wouldn’t put it past Stanley to try and use my body as a distraction to win a bet,” Phil growled, the others conceding he had a point. “And I don’t want to get in trouble because Corduroy fluttered her eyes and got you to buy some beers for her and her mates.”

“Wendy wouldn’t do that!”

Phil scoffed. “Sure, kid. Whatever you say.”

“Stanley and I will be accompanying Dipper at all times,” Ford interrupted before an argument started. “We’ll explain that you don’t have a car and as such we promised to drive you.”

“Er, you can drive, right?” Mabel asked the man from the future suddenly. “A proper car, I mean, not just hovercars?”

“I can,” Phil divulged. “Part of our training in case we got trapped in the past and needed to survive. Anyway, number two: keep your phone on at all times. I’m keeping my tablet but if the Cult attacks again I’ll need my body back. I don’t care if it ruins the interview, my plasma pistol’s keyed to my chronosignature and you’re not trained to use it or my cybernetics in combat.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Ford agreed while Dipper nodded.

“Third: you are more than likely going to be hit on while in possession of my gorgeous body,” Phil said, no hint of doubt in his voice. “Kindly reject any and all advances because I’m not ready to move and even if I were, that’s my body so don’t try anything!”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Dipper snapped, turning red. “And do you really expect to get hit on constantly?”

“Yes.”

“Kinda got a point there, Dipper,” Mabel relented, Melody and Soos nodding thoroughly behind her. “Especially once we get him - you - a shave and a haircut.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

“One last thing,” Phil said, reaching over and taking the wallet out of the jeans he had been wearing a few minutes ago and arguably still was. “I don’t want Stan trying to spend that money I earned,” he explained. “I’ll pay you back for anything you buy but only after I’ve earned enough money to do so.”

“Great,” Dipper sighed. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, bending over to roll up the carpet and throw it over his now much broader shoulders.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Mabel asked him.

“I’m not having a repeat of last time,” Dipper answered over his shoulder as he left the room. “I don’t want to be a pig again so I’m taking this with us.”

“Good idea, Bro-bro!” Mabel declared, waving enthusiastically. “Good luck with your interview! I’m sure you’ll do great!”

Dipper only grunted a reply as he left the room, not even looking back.

Mabel’s hand dropped to her side as she turned to the others. “What did I do?” she asked them desperately. “I’ll apologise for whatever it is, but he won’t even tell what I did!”

“I don’t know, Mabel,” Ford told her truthfully. “But I’ll ask him, convince him to talk to you about whatever it is. Don’t worry,” he added, seeing how crestfallen she was. “Stan and I used to fight all the time when we were your age. Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll both resolve it and things will return to normal.”

“But-” Mabel hesitated. “But what if we don’t?” she asked him anxiously. “You and Stan were distant for years after your big fight.”

“I...That is true,” Ford agreed quietly, thinking back on possibly his biggest regret in a life full of them. “But that’s because I was a fool,” he said with conviction. “I put myself before him. And as I’ve said before, your bond with your brother is much stronger than mine, even compared to when we were young.” He smiled at her. “Besides, Dipper may have his flaws but he’s a far wiser man than I. He won’t make my mistake.”

“Yeah,” Mabel said. But she looked just as uncertain as she sounded.

In Stan’s car, Dipper and his great-uncle waited in silence. Near silence. Stan kept complaining under his breath, Dipper unable to hear anything louder than the occasional swear or insult. Dipper didn’t respond, reasoning that the man just needed to vent. Once again, he wished that venting could ease his anger, or that he could at least stop doing it since it didn’t. He thought about the last few minutes and wished he’d at least said goodbye. He wished he could change a lot of things.

His thoughts were interrupted when the car door opened and Ford entered, instructing his brother to drive and then a few minutes later also instructed him to stop moaning. Stan’s response was to just repeat the same complaints but this time replacing ‘Irish scumbag’ with ‘six-fingered dork.’ Dipper waited in silence in the back, fully expecting at least one of them to tell him off for his behaviour and his treatment of Mabel. But the minutes dragged on and neither man said anything and, to his surprise, they arrived at McGucket's Hootenanny Hutt with no conversation more substantial than debating what to have for lunch.

Dipper was rather bemused by McGucket’s reaction to his new body: the man didn’t react to the messy appearance like Ford or Stan had, he’d immediately focused on the fake arm and eye, practically running around Dipper and tapping and prodding him all over. The inventor was halfway-through a delighted jig accompanied by a mad cackle before he stopped himself, cleared his throat and apologised, saying that old habits die hard. Then he led them to the gym where he had set up an assortment of bizarre instruments and machines, as well as a table holding glasses, pencils, paper, and other items.

The first thing they did was have Dipper take off his shirt so the scientists could study his cybernetics in greater detail. They used McGucket’s devices on several parts of his arm, legs, chest, spine and head, using words so large that even Dipper struggled to understand what they were saying. Stan left the room after two minutes, complaining that he’d need to steal a thesaurus to translate and went to find Nate McGucket to hopefully talk about fishing. Stanford and Fiddleford babbled excitedly until Dipper had to loudly remind them that they had a deadline. Then they set about trying to make sure that Dipper had control of his new limbs, testing his footwork and grip strength. The legs were no issue at all; they seemed to react just as if they were made of flesh, even if he couldn’t feel them.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He could walk, wiggle his toes, flex his fingers, raise his arm and sense that he was doing it. It just felt...weird. It was almost as if most of his body was numb, but without the uncomfortable control difficulties or the pins and needles effect that closely followed. 

He was more aware of this in the arm, reasoning that it must be because it was the most visible part of his new body and because he moved it the most. It wasn’t as hard to control as they had first feared, Dipper’s ambidexterity letting him master the cybernetic hand faster than if he had just been right handed. Yes, the first few glasses they offered him shattered in his grip, but by the fifth, he could pour, drink, carry, and even juggle it with ease. After he had successfully copied several pages of words that Ford read aloud without breaking a single pencil, they moved on to the next test.

McGucket had created a robotic hand for Dipper to shake, resembling those stupid strength-tester machines he not-so-secretly despised. Dipper was quick to point out that his right hand was still made of flesh and bone and there was no reason to test the strength of the left. Both scientists had looked at him pleadingly, obviously desperate to sate their scientific curiosity about the future technology. So Dipper rolled his eyes and, with great satisfaction, tore the test arm out of its socket, finally realising why Manly Dan enjoyed them so much.

It was around that time that Dipper started to enjoy his new body. Yes, the cybernetics were awesome and he was also geeking out at the technology behind it, even if the science of it all was far beyond him. But he was beginning to enjoy the other advantages of the body too.

He liked the strength in both arms, not just the metal. He punched and jabbed at some of the bags Stan liked to use when teaching the younger twins boxing and was impressed by how much easier he found it, delivering harder punches more frequently with one muscular arm than he could with two scrawny ones. He could bench press the barbell with the maximum weights using his new arm and had then lifted the bench press itself, running around the gym with it on his back and not slowing down or tiring slightly. Sure, he’d never be this strong again without magic or an exosuit, but even a taste of what he was doing now was enough to make him seriously consider working out even when he returned home. 

He also enjoyed being tall for a change. Perfectly aware that he was a little short and more than a little worried that it might continue as such for the rest of his life, Dipper was admiring the view while he could. Then again, he could always just use the size-changing flashlight if he really needed to but a part of him told him that would be cheating and he should at least see where he’d end up first.

Stan returned thirty minutes later to let them know that the stylist had arrived. When he stepped into the gym he saw the destroyed machines and workout equipment, his brother and his supposedly now-sane friend encouraging the former teenager to continue wrecking things, babbling in smart-aleck gobbledegook as they grinned and read from their computers. He eventually got them to stop, but it worried Stan when he was the voice of reason.

The stylist was a woman in her late fifties who was trying her best to look like she was in her early forties. It was pretty obvious that Stan really liked her. It was even more obvious that she didn’t reciprocate those feelings. Dipper was sure that he’d seen her at the mall so that must have been where she normally worked. He didn’t like visiting the barbers, believing it to be a waste of time since hair would just grow back anyway. But he also had a similar philosophy towards washing dirty clothes so his family didn’t really care what he thought, they just had to drag him to them every now and then and hoped that one day he’d learn to do it himself one day. As such he was not looking forward to having her not only cut his hair, but also give him his very first shave.

The haircut was relatively simple, Phil had tried to keep it under control until he’d received the letter from his daughter updating him on the relationship status of his ex-wife and he'd lost the will to bother. The stylist soon returned it back to its former glory after they'd shown her an edited version of one of the wanted posters Mabel had made sure to keep under her bed alongside the other pictures and letters she claimed not to have. When the spray and gel had set it back to its shorter and stylised state, the stylist removed a variety of creams, brushes and a straight razor from her case and Dipper took a deep breath and prepared himself for the part he had been dreading: his first shave.

It came as quite a surprise to him then that he ended up enjoying it. He later suspected that being free from his normally anxious body and the emotionally unbalancing throes of puberty might have played a part. Whatever the reason, the shave proved to actually relax him instead of turning his mood worse.

He had expected her to just run it over with an electric razor and then a quick once-over with a blade, similar to how his father shaved. Instead, she took her time and added several more steps that he didn’t even know existed. After she cut off most of the beard with her scissors and shortened it to stubble with the electric razor, she used a cleanser and a face wash, both applied with facial massages, then used a hot towel on his face to wipe it clean before adding the lather to his chin. She made sure to take her time with the straight razor and when she finally finished the final stroke and wiped it clean, she gave another massage of his face and added it to his hands as well.

“So you enjoyed it, then?” Stan asked much later, after Dipper had been fitted for the suit and while they were waiting for the final touches to be added, the tailor having been given a bountiful bonus to ensure it was made as quickly as possible in time for the interview.

Dipper nodded as he bit into his sandwich. They were unsure what kind of food would be enjoyed by the new taste buds so had stuck to making several types of sandwiches in the kitchen to test them. Dipper was relieved that the Irishman wasn’t too picky with his food and he could enjoy them all, even if they didn't quite taste the same as they would in his mouth. “It’s actually been...relaxing,” he confessed. “It might be a few more years before I can ever grow a beard, and it would be way too expensive to get something like that every time I need a shave, but I could see myself getting it done every now and then as a treat to myself.”

“I still prefer setting my face on fire, but to each their own,” Ford shrugged. “Still, I am glad to see that you’re now much more relaxed, Dipper. We have been concerned about you. You have been through a lot recently.”

“Yeah,” Dipper said quietly, feeling the guilt surface at his attitude and actions of the last few days. Then he recalled the reason for those actions and he felt the anger start to rise too. Until he pushed it down, hoping it would stay there longer this time, until he was ready to deal with it.

“You ain’t the only one who’s had it tough lately,” Stan added. “You should talk to your sister. Whatever it is you’re going through, she’ll understand and try to help you out.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Dipper muttered darkly.

“Oh yeah?” Stan challenged him. “Well you should be. Who do you think is responsible for your little day out?”

“What do you mean?” Dipper asked suspiciously.

“When Stan and I arrived in the Shack, we intended to bring you, your sister and Mister Pink along with us to make a day of it before the interview,” Ford explained. “However, your sister advised us that a better idea would be if the body swap were to happen immediately, hopefully giving you a break from any physical stressors and allow you to relax before the interview.”

“She did say I should spend some time away from her this morning,” Dipper grunted.

“Well no wonder she said that, the way you’ve been acting lately,” Stan countered. “Look, kid, I get that you’re angry, even if I don’t understand why. But Mabel had to pull every manipulative trick in her book to convince Pink to swap bodies early. He really didn’t want to give it up for longer than he needed to. But she kept saying that you needed it, that you’ve been through a lot and that she just wanted to make you happy, even if it was just for a day. And that wasn’t to get away from you. It was to give you some space because she’s worried about you and she loves you.”

“And she’s not the only one. Talk to her,” Ford urged him. “Or at least someone. Anyone. Dipper, we...we almost lost you. We don’t want to have saved you only to see you make the same mistake that we made. That I made. You’re better than us.”

“I…” Dipper struggled to answer, unsure of so much. What he would say to Mabel. How to start the conversation. Whether it would even be worth having it at all considering how much he knew it would hurt her. Hurt them both. “I just don’t know how,” he admitted. 

“You’ll find a way,” Ford said with conviction. “Whatever you’re going through, it’s important that you realise you needn’t go through it alone. Because Mabel will always have your back.”

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed. But he didn’t look or sound any more convinced than his sister did that morning.


	6. Chapter 6

While Dipper was learning to enjoy the advantages of Phil's body, Phil was struggling to accept the shortcomings of Dipper's. Yes, he missed the muscles, the looks, and the height, but he could put up with their loss. It was the frequent mood swings, surges of anger and bouts of depression he was struggling with. At first he tried to distract himself with books, video games, and television . The problem was that none of the books in the house interested him, the video games were ancient, blocky, and unresponsive messes compared to those he had played with his daughter in the future, and television just made his temper worse. 

Sure, the history documentaries and news stations were hilarious at first with just how wrong they were about the past and their predictions of the future, but he quickly found the humour turning to anger at just how incompetent they seemed. But in this body, everything turned to anger after a few minutes. He thought of his father and felt even more respect for the man at having to put up with him during his wilder teen years. He thought of his daughter and felt more sympathy at what she was going through. Then he got mad again, decided she was still a spoiled little brat at times and that he deserved a medal for putting up with her mood swings. 

He tried to help out in the shop to keep himself busy and pay his way but after he drove the second annoying customer to tears, Melody very kindly suggested he go away. Grudgingly apologising, he went for a run and came back thirty minutes later, the already sweaty body in terrible condition after being pushed too hard by a mind that was used to legs that never tired. Which did not help his mood at all. He went into the living room and tried the television again. He found a cartoon that he took one look at and decided he hated it, but hoped it would at least act as a focus for his rage. Two episodes later he was utterly enthralled. But then Abuelita came downstairs to rest on her favourite chair while she watched her soaps and he had to change the channel, fearful that he would lose all credibility for watching a show like that.

Getting desperate for a distraction, he went upstairs and forced himself to read Dipper's books about the occult and magic, figuring that it would at least be good to research magic since by his time it was dead and buried, Time Baby unwilling to tolerate anything that could challenge his power, however slightly. He got only a few minutes in when Mabel came upstairs with a video camera and decided to do one of her Mabel's Guides, a series of shorts that she liked to put online to entertain her handful of subscribers.

Five minutes later, Phil had a pillow over his head as he stared at the wall and wished for death, the torturous noise shredding his already rattled brain.

"And that was Mabel's Guide to Squeeing," Mabel concluded after ten minutes of non-stop noise. "Now we'll start the second part of this Mabel's Guide trilogy: Mabel's Guide to Screaming. After that we shall round it up with Mabel's Guide to Shrieking. Now, some people might ask: what's the difference? Well there's pitch, volume, intent, etcetera. We'll try out several different varieties of both to help you learn how to tell them apart on your own. Let's begin." She took a deep breath, her chest seeming to inflate as she gathered the necessary air.

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" Phil screamed, throwing the useless pillow at the wall. "I'm going for a walk into town! Maybe I'll be lucky for once and come across Valentino while he's committing a crime. That'll give me an excuse to release some tension," he muttered darkly, storming into the closet in search of better clothes.

"I don't think Dipper would like you going into town with his body," Mabel said with a frown, hitting the pause button on the camera. "And he really wouldn't like it if you beat up Robbie. Especially not so soon after he did it."

"Dipper beat up Valentino?" Phil asked, popping his head out to see Mabel's nod. "Huh. Good for him."

"No, it wasn't," Mabel said, an edge to her voice. "A sorceress used her magic to enslave him. Made him...made him do things. Hurting Robbie was just one of them and he feels bad enough about that, let alone the other stuff. So don't ever congratulate him on anything like that again. Understand?"

There was a look in her eyes was enough to quell even Phil's new hormonal instinct to rebel against any order. "Okay, Mabel," he said quietly. "I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "Listen, I've dealt with mind control in the future. It's a serious crime. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I am," she said with a small shrug. "Every day. I'm my therapist's most regular client. Dipper's started seeing her too."

"Good," said Phil, returning to his search. "People shouldn't have to go through terrible things alone."

Mabel watched him as he went through all of Dipper's clothes one by one and tossed them aside. "What is it with you and Robbie? I've read your list on Wendy - which I do not agree with, by the way - but what did Robbie do?"

"If you don't agree with my list then why didn't you let your brother see it?" Phil muttered, but he made sure it was too quiet for her to hear. Louder, he said, "I told you: mind control's a serious crime. Even if I can't stand Corduroy, she didn't deserve to have that done to her. Nobody does."

"Wait, you mean that CD thing? The one they broke up over? But that was a total accident!" Mabel protested. "Robbie had no idea about the secret message when he stole it! And even then, Grunkle Ford told Wendy that it wouldn't have worked after just one song! I thought a guy from the future would know more about that kind of thing," she added accusingly.

Phil froze, recalling his confrontation with the surly teen in the alley back when he had first come to the town. "Are you serious?" he demanded, turning to face Mabel. "Oh, come on! I tore into him about that! Great, now I have to apologise to a dirtbag like Valentino," he growled throwing away yet another shirt. "Doesn't this kid have any decent clothes? And why does he have so many of the same kind?"

"He says it saves time since he's too indecisive," Mabel shrugged. "So why's Robbie still a dirtbag if he never enslaved Wendy?"

"He's a cowardly, selfish, little vandal who obviously doesn't give a damn about anybody but himself," Phil growled. "Just because he didn't commit slavery, that doesn't excuse him for the other crap he's pulled."

"Robbie is not as bad as you think," Mabel said firmly. "Yeah, he's grumpy and, sure, he likes to draw muffins all over the place, but he's not a bad guy. He could have run away with the rest of the town in the Fearamid, but he stayed behind to join the zodiac. When Dipper was being controlled, he was forced to send a text to Wendy's friends pretending he needed help and even Robbie came running, despite his history with Dipper. Heck, he even joined in during the big fight, and nobody asked him or Tambry to do that for us. I think he's realised he was a big jerk to my brother. That or dating Tambry's mellowed him out. Either way, he just wants people to think he's bad because he's self-conscious and doesn't want to appear weak in case people tease him about it. Apparently that's a common thing in high school," she murmured, thinking of the horror stories she'd heard from her older friends. For the longest time she had been looking forward to leaving middle school. But if someone like Wendy Corduroy struggled with it, she dreaded to think how she and Dipper would cope. Dipper especially . "And if Robbie is a better guy than you think he is, then Wendy definitely is," she added with conviction. “Only, well, a girl.”

"That remains to be seen," Phil muttered. "But I still don't trust Valentino. That goes double for Corduroy. Seen too many bad kids grow up to become even worse adults."

Mabel rolled her eyes at his persisting hostility towards her friends. "Do you think Mary would want you to beat up Robbie, considering how big of a zodiac fangirl she is?" she asked, hoping the mention of his daughter would sway or at least delay his violent desires.

"Hah!" cried Phil. "Mary hates Valentino almost as much as I hate Corduroy! She's even removed Pacifica from her dartboard a few times to throw them at his picture instead."

"Pacifica?" Mabel repeated. "Why? What did she do to earn a place on her dartboard?"

Phil gave her a measured look. "I don't want to discuss that," he said, his lips curling in disgust. "I love her but there are some things you just have to ignore when you're a parent." He shuddered. "Bloody teenagers and their damn crap, I swear she loves driving me up the walls just for the hell of it," he muttered.

"It's kinda weird to hear Dipper curse like that," Mabel admitted. "He barely even uses the C-word."

"Oh, you mean cu-?"

"NO!" Mabel screamed, covering her ears. "The other one! C-R-A-you know the rest!"

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Americans in this century are so sensitive," he said when Mabel tentatively took her hands away. "It's just a word."

"It's a bad word," she said, glaring at him. "Like, the worst one. Even Grunkle Stan and Wendy don't use it."

"Aye, well, you'll have to get used to that and more when you reach high school, kid," Phil sighed. "And besides, it's good to swear! Within reason. Helps release stress and tension!"

"Maybe I should get Dipper to swear then," Mabel muttered. "Not sure what else I can do to release his tension at this point."

Phil sighed and walked over to her bed, jumping up beside her. "Listen, Mabel, sweetheart...I don't know what's up with your brother. But I can tell you that he's probably an emotional wreck. I mean, I'm one and I've only been him for two hours! If I knew I was going to be feeling this way for the next couple of years, I would be slamming my head against the wall! But you're brother's also pretty perceptive. And I'm sure he'll see that you've been trying to make him feel better, even when he's been making you feel bad."

"He deserves it. He does. I know I can be a bit tough to handle sometimes - too used to getting my own way. And he's always forgiven me, even when he shouldn't. But now...now it's like there's something he's struggling to forgive me for. And that scares me, Phil," she admitted. "I don't know what I'd do without Dipper. I don't want us to end up like Stan and Ford. It's the worst thing I can imagine."

"I doubt it will end up that way," Phil said, putting an assuring arm around her. "You two love each other too much to ever separate like that."

"Stan and Ford thought nothing would come between them." She looked into his eyes. "And I bet you and your wife thought that way too."

The hand dropped from her shoulder as he recoiled. "Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, we did think that."

Mabel cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes. "Sorry," she whispered, her voice heavy with guilt. "That was...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"S'alright," Phil shrugged, staring at the floor. "Sometimes...sometimes relationships do fail. Doesn't matter how hard you try or what history you have, sometimes one mistake can ruin it. Sometimes neither person does anything wrong and it can still fail. I should learn to accept that. But I can't. Your brother was right. There's a part of me still hoping that someday she'll take me back, despite knowing how ridiculous that sounds. But I keep thinking that..." He drifted off, unsure of whether he should reveal his thoughts, terrified that they'd be dismissed as being the preposterous things he knew them to be. "You know about the multiverse, right?” he asked eventually, deciding he needed to talk to someone about it his dreams for the future, even if they dismissed it as the fantasy he knew it to be. “Stanford told you about it?" 

"Uh yeah," Mabel said slowly. "He mostly told Dipper, but I've heard plenty. Even been in other dimensions. Met different versions of myself, told an offensive joke that made Lightbulb Mabel cry, saw what Dipper has to put up with, fought myself both literally and figuratively. Very eye-opening."

"Right," said Phil, taking the Lightbulb Mabel comment in his stride. "Anyway, that means that everything's possible. No matter how bizarre. Good and bad. There's universes where you and your brother have never fought once, or fall out tomorrow and never even speak to each other again. Hell, there's universes where you're septuplets instead of twins, talking coconuts instead of humans, you imagine it and, somehow, there's a universe where it's a reality. Nothing's impossible, Mabel. Nothing."

Mabel stared at him as he watched his hands, seeing the conflicting emotions that made the familiar face of her brother appear alien to her. "There's a universe where she takes you back," she said softly.

"I know it's stupid," he sighed. "I know there's less than a one in a billion chance of this being one of those universes. But I can't stop hoping that this will be one." He looked up and met her eyes again. "And I'm not going to stop being the best person that I can be in the hopes that she will. Even if I fail, at least I'll have tried. And I'll know Mary will have a father she can be proud of. And I also know that you won't stop trying to repair the rift between you and your brother by doing whatever it takes to make sure this is one of those dimensions where you never drift apart."

"Yeah," Mabel agreed. "You're right about that." She dropped her head onto his shoulder and they sat like that for a little while, two people thinking about their loved ones and taking a strange comfort in knowing that they weren't alone with their hopes and fears of what the future held for their relationships.

"Anything is possible in the multiverse," Mabel repeated eventually, thinking of everything that implied. She grinned and elbowed Phil. "That means there's even a universe where the Dipandy ship didn't sink!"

Phil gave her a curious look. "What the hell is - oh, right. Candy and Dipper." He thought about that. "That is a nice thought," he admitted with a smile.

"Yeah," Mabel agreed. "I might have jumped ships, but my first one will always have a special place in my heart." She paused as a memory surfaced. "So what's your daughter? You said she was a shipper too, is she into Dipandy or Pacipper?"

Phil's smile vanished. "I don't want to talk about it," he growled, turning away from her.

Mabel cocked her head to the side quizzically, confused by his odd reaction. Did that mean that Mary Pink shipped Pacifica and Dipper, unlike her father? No, he knew she shipped them and he seemed fine with that. Then why was he so-

Mabel's eyes went wide. "Oh. My. Goodness!" She looked back on Phil's comments about his daughter. "She's a Dippendy shipper!"

"In the future we call it Wendip," Phil grunted, his expression dark.

"That's a dumb name! What do you call Dipandy and Pacipper?"

"Uh, Candip and Dipcifica."

"Oh." Mabel considered that. "Well I started those ships, people in the future can't just change their names," she muttered bitterly. "That's stealing! Or plagiarizing! Whatever it is, it's rude!"

"You're just angry because they sound better than your names."

"That's besides the point! But Dipper and Wendy? Really?"

"It's more popular than you'd think. More popular than my ship at least," he growled. "You'd expect mine to have the most followers since Candy obviously has more in common with him than the other two, there isn't the age-difference of Wendip, and he's had more interactions with her than Pacifica, but somehow we're third place! THIRD! I mean, second place I could understand, but coming behind him and Corduroy? Stupid daughter, bloody stupid people from the future, can't tell a good thing when they see it, bloody eejits the lot of them, I swear, if I got my hands on them!"

"Wow. Didn't think it would be that popular," she admitted as Phil continued to grumble under his breath and started strangling imaginary throats. "Uh, does Mary know how you feel about Wendy?"

"Of course she bloody knows!" Phil snapped. "But does she care? Nooooo! It's all, 'Shut up, Da! She's not like that! Dipper will calm her down! They'd look so cute together! In a few years the age difference won't matter! Opposites attract! They swapped hats! They could make awesome, ginger, Wendip babies!' _ Nyah nyah nyah _!"

"Dipper does love that hat," Mabel agreed, using all the willpower she could muster to resist remarking on the babies comment. She glanced at the bedpost on which the ushanka rested, Phil refusing to wear it because he claimed it was an ugly thing that didn't go with anything Dipper wore. She now suspected that wasn't the only reason he despised it. "Wendy's pretty fond of hers too," she added thoughtfully.

"Now don't you start!" Phil admonished her, crossing his arms. "A union between Dipper Pines and Wendy Corduroy would be a foul affair, something that this world will hopefully never witness. With any luck, Dipper will finally gain the common sense to realise he can do better than that vile reprobate who taints the glory that is the redheaded race."

Mabel blinked. "It is so freaky to hear those words coming out of Dipper's mouth."

Phil gave a frustrated scoff and hopped off the bed. "That does it. My bad mood's back. I'm going to the mall to get this kid a haircut and some decent clothes. Just because I'm trapped as Dipper Pines doesn't mean I have to dress like him."

"I still don't think that's a good idea, Phil. Dipper doesn't like it when people mess with his things. I think that goes double for his body."

"Do you want him to go to the wedding with this mop?" Phil demanded, pointing to his unruly hair.

"You make a good argument," Mabel reluctantly conceded. "But I can't give you money to get it done. If Dipper found out I encouraged you, he'd just get even madder."

"Nah, I'll spend the money I earned from Stan's kissing booth yest- wait, no that was days ago, wasn't it? Stupid drug-fuelled time-lapse! Anyway, I should have enough to cover the haircut and a change of clothes to delay his stink returning." Seeing that Mabel still looked doubtful, he added, "We'll tell him it was all my idea. I said I was going for a walk and next time you saw me, I came back with a haircut and some clothes. Unless he likes it, in which case we can admit that you thought it was a good idea and gave me your permission."

"I thought you said you weren't much of a liar?"

"It's not a lie if it's true," Phil said, heading for the door. "Bye, Mabel!" he waved as he opened it. "I'm going for a walk! I might be gone a while!"

"Aha," said Mabel, smiling a little. "I do like my loopholes. But ask Soos or Melody if you can borrow their phone before you go! Just in case we need to get in touch with you. And keep the bangs!" she added. "Dipper's super sensitive about his birthmark showing. That might actually be the reason he hates haircuts so much," she said, frowning thoughtfully.

"Oh aye, forgot about that," Phil muttered rubbing his forehead. "I'll ask them to take care of it," he promised as he closed the door and went downstairs. He knew he had made the right choice when he reached the bottom and heard Mabel's muffled screaming. He looked out the window and saw that Soos was busy with another tour, so he went to the shop and asked Melody for her phone, explaining he was going on a walk and wanted to keep in contact with them in the unlikely event of an emergency.

"Please be nice," she urged as she passed him the device. "I don't want you getting Dipper in trouble because you got emotional again."

"Oh, I'm emotional, am I?" Phil snapped, proving her fears were not unfounded. "Well excuse me for being a little on edge! Not my fault my life's gone to hell and I've been sent to this backwards century! All the stupid crap you people think's important, all the important crap you dismiss as stupid! Bloody eejits! And now I'm stuck as a wee kid! You try going through puberty twice! Wasn't so great the first time! All this unbridled anger! And now look at me! Taking it out on you!" His lip wobbled. "Even after all the kindness you've shown me! How nice you've been! And now you're getting married to a great guy who loves you! I was happy once! And now - now look at me!" His shoulder shook as the tears flowed. "Don't be like me!" he sobbed, wiping his eyes miserably. "Don't be like me!"

Melody stared at the full-grown man in the teenager’s body, crying like a child, wondering if she'd ever entirely get used to stuff like this. "...Do you need a hug?" she asked quietly, not sure what else to say.

Phil glared at her as she took a knee and held her arms open invitingly. "Yes!" he sobbed, rushing at her and crying into her shoulder as she stoked the back of his head awkwardly and made shushing noise to try and settle him. Phil felt his anger and anxiety slowly fade, finding an annoying comfort in her gentle hold. Her kind voice, her hand brushing against him, her sweet scent as her soft body pressed against his-

"Ah!"

"WOAH!"

They leapt apart, both with hands in the air and matching looks of shock and disgust.

"I swear I did not mean that!" Phil yelled, his eyes wide. "It just came out of nowhere!"

"It's okay!" Melody said, shifting uncomfortably. "It's just...biology. We've all got awkward stories."

"And that was definitely awkward," Phil agreed. "Especially since you're only a few years older than my daughter," he muttered, shuddering. He cleared his throat and coughed into his fist. "Anyway, if that doesn't give me the perfect excuse to get the hell out of here, I don't know what will," he said, backing towards the door. "Bye now!" he said with a final, awkward wave before briskly walking towards the town, hoping the quick pace would settle his nerves.

Among other things.

* * *

Dipper felt strangely nervous as he walked up the stairs to Preston Northwest’s office. The nervousness itself wasn't strange: he was going to his first job interview, after all, and he was impersonating someone too, which added even more stress to the situation. What was strange was how different it felt compared to past stressful experiences. Dipper's anxiety usually manifested as even more excessive sweating, a pounding heart, stuttering, over-thinking and several other tells that made it too obvious when he was getting anxious. He wasn't sure if he suffered from a real anxiety problem or if he might overcome it with time and practice, but either way it was very frustrating and usually made uncomfortable situations worse for the young teen.

But Phil's body didn't seem to experience stress in the same way. Maybe it was decades of training and experiencing stressful situations, different biological factors, or even evolution, but Dipper felt more in control now than he would if he were in his own body. He glanced at the notes that Pacifica had made for the interview, suggestions and tips to get on her father's good side. He'd already memorised them all alongside the questions she said might pop up, but it felt good to have a physical reminder. 

He approached the secretary and introduced himself and explained his great-uncles were his escort until he could find his own means of travel, asking if it would be alright if they waited for him. He was told that would be fine and was directed to take a seat. They were ten minutes early because the older men had suggested that would show eagerness and good time-keeping while giving him more time to relax and go over his notes. Stan pulled out his latest issue of Gold Chains for Old Men Magazine while Ford pulled out his tablet and selected one of the hundreds of books held within. Dipper looked through the list of practice questions and answers again, going through them one at a time. After five minutes had passed, Dipper suddenly felt as if he were being watched and looked up. 

The receptionist was leaning forward with her elbows on the desk, her fingers intertwined as she rested her chin on her knuckles, a small smile on her lips. When he frowned in confusion she gave him a sly wink that made him clear his throat loudly and return to his notes with much greater intensity, raising them to block her from his line of sight, a reaction that made her smile broaden.

Stan looked at his great-nephew, wondering why he suddenly seemed so much more like his normally anxious self. Then he saw the secretary and he smirked behind his magazine. "Jailbait," he whispered so only Dipper could hear, grinning when Dipper's face turned to a shade similar to his new hair.

There was a beep from the intercom and the secretary's expression immediately became serious. "Mister Northwest is ready to see you," she informed Dipper, who jumped up too quickly, his notes scattering to the floor.

He cleared his throat and gathered them as quickly as he could, his face burning. He stuffed them in the leather folder Ford had given him and rushed to the door, scratching the back of his neck so that his forearm and elbow were blocking the secretary from view as he approached.

"Odd, he seemed so collected a moment ago," Ford noted. "I wonder what got into him?"

Stan looked at the woman at her desk, busying herself with whatever was on her computer and not giving the brothers a second glance. "What can I say, Sixer?" Stan shrugged as he turned a page. "Guess even a whole new body can't stop Dipper being Dipper."

Preston Northwest stood at the large window, his back to Dipper as he overlooked some of the factory trucks and the forest. "Mister Pink. Be seated," he ordered, not even bothering to turn as he gestured to his desk.

Dipper looked around the office as he took a seat and was surprised by how clean it was. There was no damage to the desk, the window had been replaced, and he even noticed (now that he thought to look) that the wall that Phil had punched through was not only repaired but also wallpapered. In fact, there was now a hunting rifle mounted on the wall, probably an extra degree of protection in case Axel returned. If he hadn't been present for it, Dipper wouldn't have believed there had been a battle in this room less than a week ago.

Preston did not turn immediately, giving Dipper a small opportunity to open the folder and reorganise his notes, straightening the slips and putting them in order. He just finished when Preston turned, his face impassive as he took his seat and steepled his fingers, considering Dipper from behind his hands. There was a silence that dragged on for too long. Dipper suspected that this was probably being done to make him more nervous, but knowing the reason behind the technique didn't stop it from working and he felt the sweat gathering under his one biological arm.

"So, my daughter tells me that you are from the future," Preston said eventually, still watching the other man carefully.

"Um...aye," said Dipper, deciding that he should probably use as much Irish slang as he could.

"And that you have extensive training in - well, in a variety of things that would prove very useful for this role," Preston continued.

"Um, aye."

"Of course, I've already seen you in action so I know that you also have several...advantages that the other people I am considering do not have."

"Um, ay-yes," Dipper corrected himself, remembering that Phil's Irish slang was often irregular and that he shouldn't overuse it, especially in a job interview. "I have a metal arm," he said unnecessarily. "And other things," he added, even more unnecessarily.

"Yes, I doubt the other candidates can say they were shot, punched through a wall, and then jumped out of a window to chase someone," Preston agreed, looking down at the folder he had on his desk. "And according to your application, you received these upgrades by throwing a bomb out a window to save a hospital."

"Uh, medical research facility," Dipper corrected, recalling what Phil had told them. 

"It says hospital on your resume," Preston said, a little sharply, though whether that was due to there being an irregularity on the form or at being corrected, Dipper didn't know.

"Uh, that took up less room on the form?" Dipper offered lamely, wilting slightly under the man's glare. "I didn't really write it myself since I was too busy, er, chasing Commander Axel," he added, using the lie the group had concocted to explain why Phil was so difficult to locate during his time under the effects of Smile Dip and the goblin's potions.

“_ Former _ Commander Axel," Preston corrected him, the smug twitch of his moustache revealing to Dipper the reason for his earlier sharpness. "It also states that your distinguishing features include, and I quote, 'red hair, gorgeous face, funny accent, and super-hot bod?'"

Dipper cursed silently, wishing they'd double-checked the documents beforehand. "My - uh, my friend Mabel Pines wrote most of that since I was...too busy. To do it myself. Because I was chasing Axel." He cleared his throat. "We probably should have looked them over first," he admitted, slumping slightly in the chair.

"That would have been the smart thing to do," Preston agreed with a scowl. "Mabel Pines," he said slowly, his brow furrowing. He thought about his daughter's friend, the one with the curly brown hair, the flamboyant outfits, and the eccentric personality. "That's the stupid little aberration with the unsanitary twin brother, isn't it?"

Preston saw the other man's eyebrows raise in surprise for half a second. Then his back straightened and both hands gripped the armrests of the chair, Preston's pulse rising as the wood buckled under the force of the left. The larger man stood up and leaned over the desk, putting his fists down on it as he glared at the businessman.

"Never. Call her that. Again," Dipper hissed, the hate in his eyes enough to make Preston reach a hand into his jacket and over his pistol. "Understand?"

Preston nodded desperately, trying to unbutton the holster strap with trembling fingers. But then the rage blazing in the blue eyes flickered and quelled to an ember and he sat down again, straighter now, his dubious demeanour replaced by a simmering resolve.

"Sorry," Dipper said, his tone not the least bit apologetic. "Sometimes I get protective."

"That's...quite alright," a shaken Preston replied. He almost swallowed thickly but caught himself at the last minute, clearing his throat instead and settling back into his chair. "Now," he said, when he'd collected himself, glad to hear that his voice didn't tremble. "Let us begin."

The questions weren't too different from those Dipper had prepared for and it didn't take much for him to give similar answers. There were a few that he hadn't expected but nothing that he couldn't answer after some thought. Even the queries about tactics or dangerous situations weren't too difficult, having read enough books and done the research online to give believable, if imperfect, answers. Besides, he had enough real life experience with them to know what would help and what would make bad situations worse, even if the stress at the time of the event didn't always allow him to follow his own advice.

"Well, I believe we're almost finished here," Preston said thirty minutes later, getting to his feet. "There's one last thing I need to confirm. No, don't get up," he added, seeing Dipper start to rise. "I want you to read something." He slid one of the documents over to Dipper, the page that listed the details of the cybernetic parts from the brief tests Ford had been able to conduct before Axel had phoned Pacifica and they ran to her father's rescue.

"Uh, if you need more details about the cybernetics then we did more tests this morning," Dipper began. "I can give you the notes later? Probably not today but maybe in a few days?"

"I couldn't make heads or tails of the documents I already have," Preston admitted easily as he stepped around the desk. "I even passed them to some of my best engineers and they were flummoxed. But they understood enough to give me the gist: a better skeleton that gives you enhanced strength, endurance, and stamina. All of which I've already confirmed with my own eyes. There's just one thing I haven't. I've made a comment. Read it."

Dipper glanced down and saw the note at the bottom of the page. "Metal skull," he read as Preston moved behind him. "Is it bullet-proof?" Dipper frowned, unsure of the answer until he remembered the first time he met the cyborg, Thompson's mini-van colliding with him and sending him flying onto the road where a fully loaded logger truck proceeded to run over his head. "Uh, yeah," Dipper answered. "Pretty sure it's bullet-proof."

"Well I'd rather be certain," Preston replied and Dipper turned to face him, freezing as he found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

"I do hope he's alright," Ford said as he and his brother waited outside.

"Geez, stop your pacing will ya?" Stan growled, turning another page of his magazine. "The kid'll be fine! He's bigger and stronger than us now! Ah, they grow up so fast," he sighed wistfully.

"I wish you'd take this more seriously!" Ford snapped. "I trust Preston Northwest as far as Dipper could throw Soos! In his original body."

"I didn't say we should trust Northwest, I just suggested that Dipper could handle him. Kid's tougher than most people think. And that's back when he had the noodle arms."

"I suppose you're right," Ford agreed, stopping his pacing. He turned to his brother with a tense smile. "Besides, now he's more metal than man. What's the worst that could happen?"

Ford jumped a foot in the air and Stan tore his magazine in half as the gunshot rang out. "You seriously didn't learn your lesson from last time?" Stan thundered at his brother before both men ran past the secretary trembling under her desk and rammed the door with their shoulders.

"Ah, the Pines Brothers," Preston noted as they stopped and stared at Preston standing over the prone figure and wielding a literal smoking gun, Dipper's eyes wide as he stared at the bullet in his hand, the other held up to his bleeding forehead. "I was just congratulating Mister Pink on a successful interview.”

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Pacifica was worried. Not just about the interview, but about Mabel and Dipper. She was uncomfortably aware that she didn't know them as well as the others. She was a fairly late addition to their circle of friends, and Mabel's best friends would always be Candy and Grenda while Dipper's was...Soos? Wendy? She wasn't really sure. But she did know it certainly wasn't her. And she knew that Dipper's dismissive attitude towards his sister was out of character and wondered what the cause could be. Hopefully they'd make up soon but, just in case they didn't, she worked extra hard to keep her mind off her concerns for the interview and the twins. It was an excellent distraction that helped her deal with stress while earning her better tips and more compliments from Susan and the other staff, two things that always made the work feel worthwhile.

Which was why, when a young man with sunglasses wearing a red t-shirt, dark woollen bomber jacket, and dark wash jeans walked in and took and took a seat at a booth, she barely waited for his cheeks to hit the seat before appearing at his elbow and offering him a menu. "Hi, I'm Pacifica and I'll be serving you to-" She froze, staring at the brown-haired boy incredulously.

"Hey, sweetheart, how's work? Tips been good today?" he asked in a voice that was immediately recognisable, even if the tone behind it clashed with her expectations.

Pacifica blinked. "Dipper?"

"You're half-right," Phil grinned, raising the shades so they rested on his forehead. "Not the first to do a double-take, either. It's the haircut, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," Pacifica said slowly. “Among other things.” It was true that the change to the messy and unwashed hair had thrown her, especially as the only time she could think of seeing Dipper without a hat was the night she had recruited him to stop the ghost from disrupting the annual Northwest Fest. And yes, the clothes were better than any casualwear she'd ever seen on Dipper, even if this summer he had begun wearing a wider variety instead of the same t-shirts, jackets, and shorts. But there was more to it than that. Phil was more upright and exuded a confidence that made him stand out a little more. Even the stress-lines below Dipper's eyes were less apparent on his face. The way Phil wore Dipper's body, he could claim to be the missing Pines triplet or slightly older sibling and he could probably get away with it.

"Decided to treat the kid to some decent attire," Phil explained, removing the sunglasses and fixing the now shorter and much more stylish brown hair with greater care than Pacifica could ever imagine Dipper doing. "Figured he deserved it. Well, that and I find haircuts and clothes shopping relaxing and I REALLY needed to relax because puberty is a terrible, terrible thing and I was going to end up murdering one of those damn customers if I heard one more snarky remark of dumb question! So I decided to get out of the house. How are you?"

"Um, fine, thanks," Pacifica replied, unused to seeing Dipper so vocally aggressive in his anger. "So can I get you anything?"

"Oh, aye, let's see...uh, I don't actually know what the kid likes. Does he like grilled cheese and ham? Wait, his family's Jewish, does he eat ham?"

"I honestly don't know," Pacifica said thinking hard. "I know Mabel doesn’t, but I think that's got more to do with her pet pig than being religious. I'll just get you the grilled cheese, just in case. Do you have money or should I pay for now?"

"I can pay," Phil confirmed, removing a wallet from his jeans. "I've still got some left over from my day at the Shack. Hey, when's your break?"

"Um, in about seven minutes," Pacifica answered, checking the clock. "Why?"

"Why don't you spend it with me?" Phil offered. "Get to know each other a little better since we'll be spending more together if this interview works out?"

Pacifica said that would be nice and they agreed to delay his meal so they could eat together. Phil busied himself in the meantime by writing on a sheet of paper. Pacifica only saw one more customer before her break, so when the clock struck the hour she sat herself down opposite Phil, sliding over his food, a Pitt soda, and a muffin. "You've had a rough day and Dipper likes muffins," she explained to his raised eyebrow. "Are you writing your report to the future?"

"Nah, I do that on my tablet," Phil said, putting the pen down. "This is my letter to my daughter. We prefer it if they're on paper, gives us a physical reminder of one another. I pop it in the mailbox next to my tablet and close it up. There's a flash and they're sent to the future. They spend a week reviewing the readings while Mary reads my letter and writes her own. Then they send my tablet back with Mary's letter and any questions or notes. Which takes about five seconds from my perspective so we have plenty of time to respond to each other."

"That's convenient. I guess time travel has its advantages. So what are you writing about?"

"Do you want to read it?" Phil asked, sliding the paper across the table.

Pacifica hesitated. "Isn't this a private thing?"

"Not always," Phil shrugged as he took the grilled cheese sandwich in his hands. "And I'm curious to hear what you think."

Pacifica spun the paper round and looked it over, noting immediately that there were a few words scored out and amended, including the first few lines:

_ Dear Mary, _

<strike> _ I'm a hormonal wrec- _ </strike>

<strike> _ I've hit puberty agai- _ </strike>

<strike> _ I've spent the last few hours inside a teenage b- _ </strike>

_ Today's been tough. I won't go into too much detail yet but I've met more of the zodiac. I am very pleased to confirm they are a good bunch. Except Corduroy. I hate her. Even Stanley's a decent sort, if rough around the edges. Dipper desperately needs to shower more and Mabel takes a bit of getting used to at times, but I'm glad I've met them. They're even trying to help me get a job! As Pacifica Northwest's bodyguard. _

_ I know you're not a fan of her because of your creepy obsession but she's a good lass. I think she's really changed from the girl the Pines family first met. She's been very kind to me when she didn't have to and I hope taking this job means I can repay her some of that kindness. Besides, I'll be able to afford a place to stay, be allowed to travel, and make sure at least one member of the zodiac always has someone to watch over them. It's like being paid for a job you were doing for free! The downside is that I'll be working for her father but I suppose he's technically not that much worse than Time Baby. _

_ Speaking of people I hate, it turns out that Valentino did NOT enslave Corduroy! Mabel confirmed it. Shocking, I know. Of course, I still think he's a tool, but I thought you should know. Not that I expect it to change your mind about him. I know you too well to think you'd change your opinion about someone so quickly. You're a stubborn, annoying brat with a frustrating temper. I've only recently recalled how similar I was when I was around your age. If you ever have kids, you'd better hope they take after their father! _

_ Love always, Da. _

"So what do you think?" Phil asked, sipping at his drink tentatively, the new taste buds causing even the food he enjoyed to have a strange quality.

"I think you need to score out the first few lines a couple more times," Pacifica frowned. "Um...I'm flattered by what you've said about me but what do you mean your daughter doesn't like me because of her obsession? Is it because I was mean to Dipper when we first met?"

Phil gave her a strange look, his mouth tightening as he debated how to respond. "Sure," he said eventually. "Let's pretend that's the main reason and never speak of it again. So apart from that, what do you think?" 

"Okaaaaay," Pacifica said, generously avoiding the topic that was causing him such irritation, even if his reaction only made her more curious. "Well, apart from that it's...very sweet. In a sarcastic sort of way."

"Just the way we show our love," Phil shrugged. "We're very alike. Makes us get on each other's nerves sometimes but we're still closer than she is with Rachel. At least, we were," he added, slumping in his seat a little. "Assuming Rachel's new man hasn't replaced me completely by the time I get back home."

"I'm sure you'll be fine Phil," Pacifica assured him. "You're a good dad. Weird to be saying that while you're in the body of a guy younger than me but it's true."

"We'll see," Phil muttered sceptically.

"Yes we will," Pacifica said firmly. "It doesn't matter how nice this new guy is, he can't replace you in Mary's heart. She could never forget how kind you've been. I didn't."

"What do you mean?"

Pacifica gave him a small smile. "Let's just say I recall a certain seven-year old girl who was scared and alone in the woods until a strangely dressed man with a funny accent and a bad eye stopped to help her."

"Ah," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "Remember that, do you?"

"Mostly," Pacifica said with a shrug. "Oh sure, I could have sworn that man was Scottish and I remember him being even bigger than you are...but the important stuff stuck with me. What you said. How nice you were."

"How long did it take you to realise?"

"A while. There was always something familiar about you but even after you mentioned time travel, I still didn't connect the dots until a few other things happened. Then I went over to Gideon's one day and he introduced me to his pet rats, the ones that Mabel mysteriously dropped off while a large man waited with her brother and friends, an unconscious Wendy slung over his shoulder. Everything fell into place after that."

"Yeah, it was fun knocking her out," Phil agreed with wistful smile. "But I'm still not sure leaving those rats in the care of Gideon Gleeful was the right call."

"Gideon hasn't done anything to them," Pacifica scowled. "Yes, he's done some bad things and he still has some...sadistic tendencies. But he's trying to do better. It's something I can relate to very much. We even had a song about it!"

"Glad I missed that adventure," Phil admitted. "I'm not known for my singing or my dancing so probably better for us all that I was busy being king of the goblins.

"Queen," Pacifica corrected him. "You were the Goblin Queen. Apparently you were very adamant about it. Anyway, Gideon really likes the rats. He's built quite the extravagant maze for them and is considering giving them to some of his ex-con friends when they're old enough to leave their mother. That way the rats get a good home while the men get a little friend who'll teach them about compassion and kindness. Which is a much better fate than if my Dad ever got his hands on them," she added bitterly.

"Ah, yes. Your Da," Phil said, a scowl on his face. When Dipper scowled it usually looked too cute to be intimidating. That wasn't a problem when Phil was moving the muscles. "About him." Phil cleared his throat and leaned forward. "That night. He hit you. Does that happen a lot or...?"

"...no," Pacifica said very quietly. "Not since that night. I don't know what you said but you really put the fear of God in him."

"More like the fear of the dead," Phil grunted, the tension leaving slightly as he gave a relieved sigh and leaned back. "Told him the ghosts in the Northwest house were watching him and to never lay a hand on you again. Glad to see he listened."

"His alternative wasn't much better," Pacifica sighed, holding herself uncomfortably. "I still have nightmares about that bell. How hard it was to resist. But I'm getting better thanks to my psychiatrist. Professor Passuum." She gave a short humourless laugh. "It's kind of funny, really. Dad stole her work to control me. Now he's paying her to try and release me from that control."

"Hm," Phil replied, not seeing anything at all funny about any of it. "Want me to punch him in the face?"

Pacifica blinked, surprised not just by the question but by the sincerity behind it. "What?"

"Do you want me to punch him in the face?" Phil repeated in a gentle voice. "Not in this body, obviously. Doubt he'd feel it with these arms. But when I swap. I'll do it if you want. Once or repeatedly, metal arm or biological. Or I could kick him in the nuts? Or you can do it, if that would be more satisfying. I've got some memory wipes, you can use those martial arts skills of yours, then we wipe the memory and tell him he just fell down the stairs."

Pacifica stared at him, honestly believing that he would really help her assault her father and then cover-up the crime if she asked. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she said with a little smile. "Well, top ten anyway," she amended, thinking of a few conversations she'd had with Dipper, Mabel, Susan, and even her mother, all within this past year. "Thanks, Phil, but no thanks. I do appreciate the offer, though. But isn't that pretty illegal for a cop? Even an ex-cop?"

"Aye, well, mind control's a bloody heinous crime when I'm from," Phil growled. "Hate the idea of anybody getting away with it, especially against his own child. If I were still a cop I could arrest him or at least find some way to make him pay for it."

Pacifica reached across the table and put her hand over his, finding it strange that she could do it without feeling any reaction while knowing if it had been the real Dipper she would be fighting a blush. "I really appreciate you doing this for me, Phil," she told him earnestly. "Look, if you ever decide it's not worth working for my Dad then - then just let me know. We'll sort something else out for you. No hard feelings."

Phil smiled at her. "Thanks, sweetheart. But if I'm honest, this job is pretty convenient for helping me guard the Falls against the-" Phil paused, his smile changing to a confused frown. Then his face twisted in disgusted horror as he glanced down at her hand over his.

"Phil?" Pacifica asked in alarm as he drew his hand back faster than if her touch burned him, shuddering and gagging. "Are you okay?"

"YEP!" Phil yelled, avoiding looking at her. "I'm great! Just need to go! Right now!" He reached into his wallet and practically threw the money at her, not even bothering to count it before he jumped out of the stall and ran for the door, pausing only to grab a glass of water from another customer and throw it over his own face, much to their confusion.

"What the hell was that about?" Pacifica asked, her perplexed expression matching the customers'. She counted the money and was fairly certain he didn't intend to leave that much of a tip, pocketing it separate from the rest of her tips to return later. She was still scratching her head over the whole affair when a customer cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Er, excuse me, Miss?" the man asked, haltingly. "I don't suppose you know what that boy ordered?"

"Uh, the grilled cheese. Why?"

"Oh," said the man, deflating as he stared at his half-finished meal. "No reason," he sighed, wishing he'd stuck to his usual.

* * *

Wendy Corduroy walked down the street, thinking about the week she'd had as she walked to Greasy's Diner, looking forward to eating an animal she hadn't trapped and skinned herself. The camping trip had been pretty enjoyable, overall. Despite her frequent complaints about her family, she did like their little excursions into the woods. Mostly. A strong sufferer of both teenage and small-town boredom, she was always on the lookout for anything to distract her, and the camping trips gave her plenty to do. Setting up their tents and traps, preparing the food, gathering firewood and other supplies. She'd always compete with her younger brothers to see who could do their tasks the best or the fastest and she took it as a matter of pride that she beat them every time. Sure, Marcus was catching up to her, but she wasn't worried yet. Her youngest brothers were still years away from her level, especially since they almost always started rough-housing and ruined whatever they were doing in the scuffle. Too-often their fights had even led to them ruining her or Marcus' work too, but that was becoming less and less frequent. 

In fact, all three of her brothers had kept a wary distance from her this trip, which had been odd but definitely made things easier. She wasn't sure if it was because they were maturing a little, if they were trying to give her more space, getting sick of their father's roaring criticisms, or if they were just too scared of her after she'd kicked the face of the last person who earned her wrath. Whatever the reason, she'd enjoyed herself more than she'd expected and didn't think she'd be venting to her friends as much this time.

Of course, there was still the curious matter of why her brothers had suddenly burst into song about becoming men one day, greatly alarming her and her father. Then her father had done something similar that night, much to his obvious embarrassment, even Wendy too uncomfortable with the experience to crack a joke at his expense. With a growing sense of dread, she'd tried to do everything she could think of to avoid a similar situation herself, but to no avail. She sang louder and better than she could ever remember, musically voicing her exasperation with most of the men in her life, her brothers ironically acting as the chorus. Three songs later and Clan Corduroy unanimously agreed to cut the trip short and never speak of the incident again. Well, to each other at least. This was definitely the sort of phenomenon that she'd have to ask Dipper about. She wondered if her family was alone in becoming a musical and wasn't sure if it would make her feel better or worse to find out if others had gone through it too.

She was still debating how much detail to give Dipper about her embarrassing songs when she heard a familiar voice and saw the teen himself darting round and through townsfolk, yelling all awhile. Wendy blinked in surprise at his drastic change in hairstyle and attire, wondering if it was the result of one of Mabel's schemes. Which could also explain the look of terror on his face and why he was running as if a zombie horde was at his heels. She stood on her tiptoes and peered over the heads of the townsfolk (an easy task as she was already one of the tallest women in town) to make sure there really wasn't some threat chasing him. Not seeing anything, her hand dropped from the handle of her axe and she settled back onto the heels of her feet as he ran her way. 

"Hey, Dip-" she tried to say, but he just ran past her, leaving her standing there with her mouth open, one hand raised in casual greeting.

Wendy frowned. Running and yelling were pretty standard actions for her young friend, almost a weekly occurrence. And the haircut and new clothes were a surprise but not outside the realms of possibility. But ignoring her? That made her suspect something was wrong. She turned and followed the sound of his voice. Wendy had often noted that while her friend lacked stamina, his speed was very impressive, and she had to run to find him again, just catching him fleeing to the park. There, the yelling finally died, but she quickly spotted him at a water fountain, drinking greedily and splashing his face and neck.

Dipper leaned forward with his hands on his knees as he panted heavily. "Ugh, I am never doing this again," she heard him say as she approached. "I'm going to need thirty showers just to feel clean." He shuddered and slapped himself a few times.

"Uh...Dipper?" Wendy asked cautiously as he continued to slap himself. "Dipper!" she said again when he didn't respond.

He paused mid-slap, a look of confusion on his face. Then he turned to her. "Oh great, it's you," he muttered. "What the hell do you want?"

Wendy took a startled step back, his response not something she'd expect in a million years. "Whoah, dude, are you okay?" she asked, her concern growing. "You're acting really weird. Do you need some help?" Every instinct she had was screaming at her that something was off. It wasn't just his clothes, it was the look in his eyes, the way he spoke, even the way he held himself was wrong, to say nothing of the way he was reacting to her. It was almost as if he were a different per-

He scoffed. "Like I need any help from the likes of - WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT AXE!?"

"I don't know whether you're a shapeshifter or if this is more possession crap but either way, it ends now," Wendy growled, twirling her weapon menacingly.

He cocked his head to the side, staring at her incredulously. "You think your mate's been possessed and your first response is to threaten his body with an axe?" He rolled his eyes. "You really are an eejit."

Wendy froze, the insult echoing in her memories. _ "Pink?" _

"Aye, that's right," Phil said, crossing his arms.

She waited for an explanation. "What are you doing in Dipper's body?" she asked when it became obvious he'd rather continue glaring at her.

"He's helping me with a job interview. You want the rest of the story you can ask someone else. My day's been bad enough, I don't need your presence making it worse." He shook his head and turned his back on her, muttering insults. He had only taken a few steps before a strong arm grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

"Hey, don't walk away from me!" Wendy snarled. "And don't just insult me under your breath! If you've got something to say then you can say it my face!"

Phil tore his skinny hand from her grasp. "Fine. I despise you. I'd give you a list of reasons why but I don't have one on me. So let's see how many I've memorised, huh?" He held out his hand and started to count the flaws off his fingers as he listed them one by one. "For one thing, you’re a criminal. Your record speaks for itself. Shoplifting. Vandalism. Car theft. Assault."

"Cut the crap!" she snapped. "This isn't about me smashing a few windows or getting in fights at school. Stan's rap sheet is way worse than mine but Mabel never mentioned you going on about him! What is it about me that you can't stand?"

Phil narrowed his eyes as she glared at him, trying to keep his anger in check in his new body and failing. "My daughter looks up to you," he admitted, surprising Wendy. "She thinks you're brave, a fighter, someone who'll do anything for your friends. She thinks that passion of yours can be harnessed into something good, and that Dipper Pines is the one to convince you to do it. But what if she's wrong? What if, rather than Dipper making you a better person, your influence corrupts him? That boy's so eager to prove himself and please people. You especially."

"You think I'd try and convince Dipper to, what? Rob a bank or something to impress me?" Wendy rolled her eyes. "You're wrong. I'd never do anything like that, let alone get him to do it. Sure, I might break a few rules but-"

"But you'd never do anything serious," Phil sneered. "It's just harmless fun, you're not a bad person, you're just misunderstood. Save it. I was a cop, you think I haven't heard it all before? If I had a credit for every time I heard those excuses then I would have retired by now. People are always so lenient on you teenagers, they think you'll change. But I've dealt with gangs, fought the crime bosses and their underlings. Guess how most of them started? They didn't just jump into murdering and drug dealing, they started with vandalism, shoplifting, beating up people, all because they were angry at the world or wanted to prove themselves. Sound familiar?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about.," Wendy spat, her fists clenching. "You don't know me."

"Sure I do," Phil replied, his conviction obvious. "I've seen the holovids. You're a selfish manipulator, Corduroy. It's obvious. You've used both Mabel and Dipper to get out of work, both at the Shack and when you were at the pool. They've relied on you and you keep letting them down. You never apologise-"

"Hah!" Wendy cried. "See? You don't know after all! I have apologised for the crap I pulled last summer! What's the matter, lost your thunder?" she sneered as his mouth snapped shut. "Guess what buddy? I know I wasn't the friend they deserved! You might not believe this but I actually thought long and hard about what you said to me last time, and promised myself I'd try and be better. And that included owning up to what I did wrong. And you know what else?" she asked, smirking confidently as his criticisms stopped. "They forgave me. And instead of just shrugging it off and doing it again, I've actually tried to be a better person. You might not like me but I'll tell you the same thing I said last time: I haven't been the friend they deserve but I'm going to change that. So hate me all you want, I don't give a damn what you think about me."

Phil gave her a loathsome stare as she continued to smirk. "I bet you care about what they think," he said after a heavy silence. "Do you think they'd still care about you if they knew the truth?"

"What truth?" Wendy snapped.

"The truth about what kind of person you really are," Phil said, his voice calm even as the fire in his eyes raged.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Wendy demanded.

He dashed forward with astounding speed, reaching up and grabbing her by her shirt and pulling her close before she could even react. "You enjoyed _ Weirdmageddon_," he hissed, the words cutting her like a knife.

"What?" Wendy gasped, barely able to breathe as her chest tightened.

"The world was burning and you were having fun!" Phil spat, his eyes flashing. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong!"

Wendy opened her mouth, staring back at the burning brown eyes and the contorted face she knew so well, trying to urge a denial from her throat.

But she couldn't.

Phil made a noise of disgust and pushed her away. "I knew it," he growled as Wendy stood frozen in place. "You're a monster, basking in the suffering of others! Just like Bill and his cronies!"

Wendy swallowed, unable to look him in the eye as his words pierced her core. "I - I didn't-"

"Don't you dare say you didn't know!" he snarled, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You saw Bill's Eye-Bats take your friends! Did you even bother looking for your family?"

"I - I was just trying to survive," Wendy managed, still avoiding his spiteful gaze.

"Oh, but did you have to relish it so much?" he asked. "Fort Cash Money? Those black stripes under your eyes and the fingerless gloves? Was it fun playing the adventurer while your family, your friends, the whole town was in danger?" he demanded. "Was it? Don't just stand there! Answer me!"

"I couldn't do anything!" she protested.

"Oh, I agree with you there," He sneered. "You were useless. You proved that in Mabel's bubble. Was it fun, gluing that plunger to the Principal's head?" He asked her quietly, not relenting even as she stepped back. "Fulfilling your fantasy while the real man was watching his son die?"

"I didn't know!" she screamed at him, feeling as if her insides were shrivelling.

"You didn't care!" he yelled back, unflinching even as he watched the tears gather in the corners of her eyes. "You disgust me! At least Cipher knew he was lying when he pretended to be someone's friend!"

"Stop!" Wendy begged, clapping her hands over her ears.

"Those kids look up to you and you just use them!" Phil roared at her. "Then you abandon them when they need you most! You claim you were going to help Dipper save his sister and rescue the town but the moment those fantasy friends of yours came along, who's the first person to abandon them, just like you always do?" He paused, breathing heavily as he unsympathetically watched her suffering. "I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

A chill hit her, making her feel colder than she ever had in her life. "What did you just say to me?" she breathed, turning to face him now, her eyes wide with shock.

Phil leaned closer, making sure she wouldn't mishear him. "I said: you're just like your _ mother _," he hissed, indifferent to the line he crossed.

She stared at him, mouth agape, barely able to process his words. Then the fear and regret in her eyes was drowned out by anger and disgust, her mouth closing in a grimace of hate as she got to her feet. 

_ The silence after the cabin door slammed shut and the sound of her motorbike had finally faded into the distance. _

She grabbed him by the collar, lifting him into the air with ease as she marched to the nearest tree. 

_ Her brothers asking when she would return, what had they done wrong? _

She slammed his back against the bark, ignoring his cry of pain as she pinned him with one hand.

_ The roar of the fire as they burned every reminder of her they had, her father standing alone and wiping at his eyes, telling them he loved them and they deserved better. _

She drew back her fist, gritting her teeth as he struggled in her iron grasp.

_ Crying in her room, begging her to come back, silence the answer, silence would always be the answer until she finally learned to stop asking. _

She could barely see now, too many memories were blocking her vision.

_ Finding her father alone on the couch one night, looking more tired and smaller than she'd ever seen him, as if all the weight of the world was on his shoulders. _

The fist flew, his eyes widening instinctively as it drew nearer.

_ How could she leave? _

There was a crack as her knuckles connected, a jab of pain racing up her arm from the force of the blow, enough to rattle the leaves in the tree.

Phil's eyes darted from her face to the forearm beside his head, more confused than afraid as she glared at him.

Wendy ignored the painful throb in her arm, feeling a strange satisfaction at his puzzlement. “I’m not like her,” she told him. “I’m not. I've messed up. I've messed up bad. But I won’t leave them. Not again."

Phil cocked his head to the side. "We'll see," he said, not bothering to hide his disbelief.

"Yes, we will," Wendy growled. "And then I'll have great satisfaction in proving you wrong. But just so you know? You're damn lucky," she told him, the fury in her eyes as blatant as his. "Because if you were in anyone else's body? I wouldn't have missed."

Phil frowned, his eyes narrowing as he considered her. "He means something to you," he said eventually. "They both do, but him especially. What is it?"

"That's none of your business," Wendy stated, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a definitive answer. 

His frown deepened at her response. "Whatever it is, it better not be romantic," he warned her. "He's too young for you and, even if he weren't, Dipper Pines can do far better than the likes of you."

"So weird to hear that coming out of Dipper's mouth," Wendy muttered.

"Yeah, I've been getting that a lot. You going to put me down now or are we just going to glower at each other until your arm gets tired?"

"Not yet," Wendy said, leaning closer. "Let's get one thing clear. I might not have been strong enough to fight Bill's stupid fantasy bubble magic. I was weak and he beat me. I'll admit that. But I wasn't the only one to fall for it. Dipper was the only one strong enough to resist. And you might think you're better than me - and maybe you are - but there's now way in hell that you're better than Dipper Pines. I bet if you had been there and a hover car with your wife and kid came along-"

"Don't you _ dare _ talk about my family!" Phil snarled, trying to force himself free of her grasp.

Wendy grabbed his wrists and pulled them away, her ropey arms easily overpowering his. "Then you don't get to talk about my mother!" she hissed, so close their noses were almost touching. "Understand?"

Phil let out a growl as he glared at her, giving a brief nod of bitter concession. He could feel his hatred for her rising, wishing he was back in his old body. Everything about her was making his blood boil. From her massive feet to her grubby clothes, her lanky frame, her emerald eyes, her cute freckles, the way her red hair seemed to waft gently in the breeze, her forest-like scent, the feel of her warm breath against his neck-

"Now, I'm going to put you down and we can agree to hate each other in-" Wendy began before Phil let out a despairing scream of horror and wrenched both hands free of her.

"What are you-?" she tried to say before he grabbed the sides of her head and slammed his forehead into her face, causing her to recoil and drop him. "Sonuva- WHAT THE HELL?" she screamed, clutching her bloody nose and glaring at the man in the teenager's body.

Phil stared into the distance, his face a mask of horror as he shuddered and gagged, the sweat dripping from his forehead. He put one had over his mouth, the other on his stomach. Then he lost whatever internal battle he was fighting and retched with a disgusted heave.

"Ugh!" Wendy leapt back to avoid the spray, feeling some satisfaction that he was suffering after attacking her. Then she remembered that he was in the body of her friend and realised she'd better check it wasn't too serious. "Uh, you okay, dude?" she asked, taking a wary step towards him.

Phil let out a panicked screech as he saw her approach. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!" He gagged again, and clutched his stomach, closed his eyes, raising one hand to block her from his vision. "Ugh, just go away!"

"What the hell, man?" Wendy grunted. "You were the one who hit me!"

"This body's reacting to you! It's worse than the others!" Phil gasped, moaning loudly between sentences. "This is so wrong! I despise the ground you walk on and you're younger than my daughter!"

"Um...what?" Wendy asked, confused and alarmed. Then her eyes flew wide and she took a disgusted step back. "Ew! What the hell, dude! You're like, fifty!"

"How the hell do you think I feel!" Phil spat, glaring at her. Then his eyes went wide and he heaved again. "Ugh! I can't even look at you!" he screamed in despair. "It's never been this strong before! Not even when Melody hugged me!"

Wendy blinked. "What?"

"That one I could understand!" Phil continued, growing manic as he struggled against his new body's impulses. "I mean, she's got some meat on her bones! If she were thirty years older and single I'd be willing!"

"Ew!"

"But you!" He turned and glared at Wendy but had to turn away immediately, feeling the desires surge again. "Look at you! What's the point of having a massive bum if there's no love handles to hold onto? But this _body!"_ he growled, gesturing towards his teenage form. "Clearly it's got a thing for freakishly tall, scrawny girls with flat chests! The only part of you that isn't causing a reaction are those canoe feet!"

Wendy frowned, trying to decide which part of his rant should offend her the most. "I'm starting to regret not laying you out."

"Even your annoying voice is affecting me!" Phil cried covering his ears. "I need to get out of here!" he declared, breaking into an awkward run to get away from the object of his desire/misery.

Wendy watched him go, shaking her head as he retreated. "Think that might have been the weirdest moment of my life," she said to herself. 

Which was saying a lot.

* * *

  
  


“I’m gonna kill ‘im,” Stanley Pines growled as he drove his brother and great-nephew back to the Shack. “I don’t care who he is, nobody messes with my family!”

“He didn’t know it was Dipper,” Ford tried to calmly remind his brother, despite agreeing with him whole-heartedly. “I don’t think even Preston Northwest would shoot a thirteen-year old boy.”

“Wanna bet? Hasn’t Mabel ever told you about what he’s been doing to his daughter for most of her life?”

“I...alright, yes, he’s a despicable man,” Ford agreed. “But I still doubt he’d have shot Dipper if he thought there was any chance that it would hurt him.”

“Helluva way to test it,” Stan grumbled. “I say we drive back there and trash that fancy car of his. What do you say, Dipper? Kid?”

Stan glanced in the rear-view mirror as his brother turned in his seat to check on their great-nephew.

Dipper, his chin in his hand, stared out the window at his reflection, oblivious to the world around him.

“Dipper?” Ford called quietly. When there was no reaction he cleared his throat and tried again, louder.

Dipper jumped, blinking rapidly and looking around the car in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Ford said quickly, Stan grimacing at the panic in the former-teen’s voice. “Stanley only suggested that...that we make Northwest pay. For what he did.”

“Yeah, we can break into his new place!” Stan suggested. “Then throw all his trophies out the window! Test your new arm, see if we can hit the lake, and go fishing for them later! Whaddaya say?”

“Oh.” Dipper hesitated, scratching his chin awkwardly. “No. Thanks. I’d...I’d rather just go home. If - if that’s okay?”

Ford returned to his seat and exchanged a look with his brother. “Sure, kid,” Stan said. “Whatever you want.” He glanced back in the mirror but saw that Dipper was already staring out the window again, lost in thought.

They came to red light and Stan slowed the car far from smoothly. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at his brother, who gave a resolute nod. Stan cleared his throat and was about to say something to his great-nephew when everyone in the car jumped as Dipper’s body slammed into the windscreen.

“Get me out of this thing!” Phil screamed, slamming his fists against the glass. “I can’t take it anymore! If I have one more episode then it’ll be years before I can look a woman in the - what the hell have you done to my face?” he gasped, catching sight of Dipper.

“What have you done to my hair?” Dipper cried, staring at his new haircut.

“And get the hell off my car!” Stan thundered, opening his door and trying to drag the teenager off.

“You gave me a makeover, I returned the favour,” Phil said as he slid off the car. “And hair grows back, unlike faces, so what the hell have you done to mine?”

“The interview proved more...thorough than anticipated,” Ford explained.

“What the hell does that - you know what, never mind!” Phil jumped into the back of the car beside Dipper. “Find us somewhere to park so we can do the switcheroo! The sooner I’m out of this body the happier I’ll be! I tell you, kid, I had no idea what you are going through!” he added as he buckled the seatbelt. “You have my pity. And respect! But mostly pity.”

“Um, thanks?” Dipper replied, deciding to take the back-handed compliment.

Stan soon found a parking lot outside a convenience store, giving them enough space to unfurl the electron carpet.

“Come on, come on,” Phil urged as he shuffled frantically, watching the small sparks gather around his feet. “Yes!” He leaned over and slapped Dipper’s hand, grinning broadly at the thought of returning to his body...only for the grin to fade as nothing happened. “No,” Phil gasped, slapping the hand again and again to no avail. “Why isn’t this working! What’s wrong?” He fell to his hands and knees. “I don’t want to be stuck like this forever!” he cried as the tears gathered in his eyes. “Do you have any idea what it’s like wanting to constantly rub yourself against a tree? It’s awful! I can’t live like this, it’s worse than death!” he cried, dropping to the floor, his arms covering his head “I miss my beauty! I miss my biceps! I’m surrounded by girls younger than my daughter and it’s creeping me out!” he wailed, his sobs ringing out and causing a few passing townsfolk to stop and stare.

Ford and Stan shared uncomfortable glances as Dipper pinched his nose in embarrassment. Sighing miserably, he reached down and clipped himself over the back of the head.

Phil just had time to register the pain before there was a flash of light and he was back in his body. “I’m me again!” he cried joyfully, bouncing up and down, the alarmed townsfolk rushing past and muttering ‘Never Mind All That!’ under their breath. “What’d you do?”

“You kept slapping your metal arm!” a scowling Stan snapped as Dipper got to his feet and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Oh,” Phil said, flexing his metal hand. “Wow, I really was in bad shape if I even forgot about this. I missed you,” he purred, patting his cybernetic bicep affectionately. “And you!” he added, doing the same for the biological.

“Yeah, muscles are great,” Dipper sighed, never particularly enjoying returning to his underwhelming body.

“Hang on, just let me check I’m free of hormones,” Phil said, closing his eyes as his face twisted into a look of deep concentration. “Let’s see...MelodyPacificaCorduroyMelodyPacificaCorduroyMelodyPacificaCorduroy - nope! No reaction! It’s good to be back,” he sighed happily.

“Uh, what was that about?”

“Something I’d rather forget,” Phil said, barely suppressing a shudder. “Anyway. Why the HELL! Is there a hole in my face?” Phil asked, bending over to check the damage in Stan’s side-mirror.

“Preston shot - shot you,” Dipper said, clearing his throat. “Uh, in - in the face.”

Phil stared at the boy. “He - he what? Bloody hell! You okay, kid?”

“Um...yeah,” Dipper lied, clearing his throat again and rubbing his arm. “I’m - I’m fine. How are you?”

“How am - forget about me!” Phil glanced at the other men who were also obviously unsettled by the incident. “You need to go somewhere?”

“We could take you to see Professor Passuum?” Ford offered. “We could make it an emergency appointment and-”

“No,” said Dipper, clearing his throat. “I’m - I’ve got an appointment with her tomorrow anyway. I’ll talk to her about it then. I promise,” he added, seeing the hesitation on his great-uncle’s faces. “But right now I - I think I want to go for a walk.”

“Kid, I’m not sure about leaving you alone right now,” Ford said. “We need to take you back to the Shack and-”

“That’s where I’m going,” Dipper told them. “I just...I just want to walk there. I need to talk to Mabel and...and I need to think about what I want to say. So that’s why I’ll walk there. I’ll head straight there,” he promised. “I just...need some alone time right now. Please?”

The Stans shifted uneasily under his desperate gaze, conflicted about what to do. They leaned their heads together and had a brief, hushed conversation, Phil watching Dipper carefully as the brothers spoke. “Okay, kid,” Stan growled when they broke apart. “We’ll let you walk back. But it’s only half an hour’s walk and if you ain’t back there in an hour then we’re coming after you. So keep your phone on. AND you’re getting double appointments with the Prof this week. Got it?”

Dipper nodded. “Seems - okay. Yeah. Seems fair.”

“Good,” the brothers grunted in unison, neither appearing very happy despite the boy’s agreement.

“And what about you, Mister Pink?” Ford asked the cyborg. “Will you be staying at the Shack tonight or should we drop you off at the dump?”

“Um, actually, I was hoping you could give me a lift back to Northwest M- sorry, McGucket’s Manor, if that’s alright?” Phil asked.

“I’m sure that Fiddleford would love to have you spend the night,” Ford said with a smile. “He’d be ecstatic at having more chances to study your arm. If you’re up for it?”

“Eh, why not?” Phil shrugged. “Even if he can understand the technology, the materials won’t be invented for thousands of years so it won’t endanger the timeline. And he can look all he wants as long as he asks permission before touching.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Again with the stripper thing. Yeesh!”

“What?” Ford asked, pausing as he entered the car.

“I’ll explain later,” Stan sighed. He leaned out the window to say goodbye to Dipper. “Remember - one hour. Or else we’ll have your sister make missing person posters for you and who knows what kind of picture she’d pick?”

“One hour,” Dipper said. “Got it. Thanks, Grunkle Stan. Grunkle Ford. Phillip.”

“It’s Phil!” Phil called out from the back. “You’ve earned the right, kid!” Dipper only nodded in acknowledgement and raised his hand in farewell as they drove away, Phil watching him through the windows.

“One thing about staying at Fiddleford’s,” Ford told Phil as they drove. “It isn’t McGucket’s Manor, it’s McGucket's Hootenanny Hutt. An odd name, I know, but he’s pretty fond of it so if you’re living under his roof-”

“We’re not going to McGucket’s,” Phil said, sitting back in his seat now that Dipper was out of sight.

“But you said-”

“Forget what I said.” Phil reached for his plasma pistol, which the Pines family had left in the car to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally discharge. “I’m going to have another chat with Preston Northwest. No one shoots a kid, especially not when he’s wearing my face,” he growled.

Stan leaned over and elbowed his brother. “Never thought I’d say this - but I agree with the cop!”

* * *

Dipper pushed his hands deep in his pockets as he walked down the lonely, winding road that led to the Mystery Shack. Normally, when an adventure ended, he liked to spend some time alone, thinking of what exactly to put in his journal. But this time he was uncertain, uncomfortable with the thoughts already in his head and unwilling to put them to paper just yet.

He made his way back slowly, entering the convenience store to grab a bottle of water, feeling strangely tired and dehydrated. While in the store, he’d heard a few girls around his age giggling. Dipper was not unaccustomed to having girls laugh at him, but this time when he glanced their way, instead of smirking or flashing him a look of annoyance, they’d stopped their giggling, blushing and either turning away or smiling at him shyly. When he turned away in embarrassment the giggling returned in double and he left the shop with a burning face.

There had been a time when Dipper would have given anything to get that sort of reaction from girls. He ran a hand over his head, the short hair feeling alien to him. It was stupid to feel this way. It was just a haircut and a change of clothes. Why did it make him feel like this?

Because it wasn’t him. Not really.

He sighed, kicking a stone along the ground as he squeezed the bottle in his pocket. He followed the stone’s arc and finally noticed a familiar figure further up the road. He instinctively quickened his pace, not even realising he was doing so.

“Hey, Wendy,” he sighed as he reached her, his eyes still downcast. 

Wendy turned and glared at him as he walked beside her. Then her eyes narrowed critically as she noticed his slouch, the averted eyes, and the heavy way he held himself. “Dipper!” she cried, throwing her arms in the air and making him jump. “You’re back!”

“Uh, yeah,” Dipper said slowly. “Shouldn't I be saying that to you?”

“I mean you’re back to being you!” Wendy grinned, punching him in the shoulder. “Dude, I have missed you so much! Seriously, send me a text or something next time you swap bodies, okay?”

“Oh. Um. Okay. I’ll try.” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, you met Phil? Wait, what about your camping trip? I thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days? Hang on, I haven’t accidentally travelled in time and been gone for two days, have I?” he asked nervously.

“Nah,” Wendy said, smiling at having him back to his original, anxious self. “At least, not as far as I know. This weird thing happened where me and the family would suddenly burst into song. Super freaky and annoying.”

“Yeah, we had that too,” Dipper sighed. “Uh, don’t tell any of the song lyrics to Mabel,” he warned her. “She’ll be singing them all day. She’s already considering making a show with all the ones she can remember.”

“It’s not another puppet show, is it?”

“No, live-action. But she doesn’t anyone to play themselves, thinks that would limit their expressionism or empathy or...something. We’re trying to talk her out of it.”

“Hah! Good luck with that! Anyway, Dad decided that musicals weren’t very manly and were a bad influence on us. So we ended it a few days early. Apart from that it wasn’t too bad. No major fights, the boys mostly stayed out of my way, even Marcus. Pretty fun for a change.”

“Huh. That’s pretty cool. So how did you know I swapped bodies with Phil? Did you run into him?”

“More like he ran past me,” Wendy grunted. “Was freaked out over something and I decided to see what was up with him - you. Followed him to the park where...well, we basically had a shouting match.”

“Over what?”

“I...that’s not important,” she said, glancing away. “Let’s just say things got heated, we agreed we can’t stand each other and hopefully that’s the last we’ll see of each other for a while. Guy’s a total jerk.”

“Hm,” Dipper said, not entirely agreeing with her. But he definitely didn’t agree with Phil’s opinion of Wendy. “He give you that?” he asked her quietly, pointing to her face.

Wendy rubbed her nose and saw there were specks of dried blood on her finger. “Ah. Yeah, but this was more of an...accident. Kinda. We didn’t get into a real fight or anything, he just got, uh, a little surprised and reacted poorly.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’m just glad you’re back,” she said, clapping him on the back.

“Glad somebody likes old me better,” he muttered.

Wendy frowned at him, her elation at seeing him fading as she noticed the way he held himself uncomfortably. “You okay, dude? You seem even more down in the dumps than usual.”

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed. “I’m fine. Just...tired.”

Wendy leaned towards him, cupping a hand to her ear. “What’s that? Can’t make it out over all that bull-crap coming out of your mouth.” She grinned and bumped her hip against him. “You don’t want to tell me then that’s fine. But don’t expect me to believe that old excuse. I know you too well.”

DIpper stopped walking, and her grin faltered as he looked at her with a strange expression. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. “I, uh...I was shot today,” he told her.

She stared at him. “What?”

“In Phil’s body,” he explained, clearing his throat. “See, Pacifica needed a bodyguard. Mabel thought Phil would be perfect. But then stuff happened and, uh, and Phil didn’t have time to practice for the interview. So Mabel thought I should do it instead. And I got mad at her because - because -” Dipper cleared his throat again, blinking rapidly. “And, uh, and then I went to the office as Phil. But - But Preston called Mabel stupid and I got mad at him.” He cleaned his throat again, blinking faster and faster. “And then - then he asked me if my head was bullet-proof and - and I said I think so but he - he wanted to be sure so I turned around and - and - and -”

He let out a shuddering breath as the tears flowed, wiping them away but unable to stop them. “I was so frightened!” he gasped, his breaths coming short and quick. “Me and Mabel have been fighting all week and - and I didn’t even say goodbye this morning!” He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he cried, unable to stop the stream from his eyes. “Then the bullet hit and I was on the floor and I saw the blood and I - I thought I was dying and I didn’t even say goodbye and -”

Dipper saw the flash again, felt the ringing impact as the body he thought was so strong suddenly went weak, the throbbing in his skull, regretting every stupid remark he’d ever made to his sister, wishing he could take it all back, terrified he’d never get to see her again. He pressed harder against his eyes, wishing he could stop, he didn’t want to be like this, he didn’t want _her _to see him like this, weak and frightened and - and -

He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders as he trembled and shook, gently easing him forward. “It’s okay, dude,” Wendy said softly as she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s okay.”

Dipper lifted his head from his hands in surprise, he couldn’t recall ever being this close to her before. She’d never been one for anything more than a quick hug at most, preferring a punch on the shoulder or an arm around the neck. 

“Pe-people might see us,” he protested, feebly trying to push away, expecting to see a look of unease on her face.

“There’s nobody here but us,” Wendy told him firmly with a determined frown, a mixture of anger and sympathy. “And even if there were? Screw ‘em. You’re all that matters right now.”

Then she pulled him closer and his surprise was forgotten as he buried his head in her shoulder and wept, putting his own arms around her.


	8. Chapter 8

Preston Northwest sat at his office desk, smiling with more satisfaction than he had felt in a year. He drummed his fingers on the wood for a moment before deciding that, yes, he would treat himself to a victory drink.

He did some mental calculations as he poured himself a glass. Only a few days ago the small remainder of expensive liquid would have soured his mood and encouraged him to think twice before drinking. Now he chuckled as he poured freely, thinking that he might take Priscilla out for the first time in a long time, perhaps for lobster at the aquatic restaurant she enjoyed. Then they would return home, open a bottle they had rescued from the Manor before that lunatic stole it, talk and dance and drink a little. Who knew where the evening might lead...

He pressed the button on the intercom to instruct his secretary to reserve a table for two tonight before he settled back into his chair, looking at the numbers again and smiled more. It might take some time but if everything continued at this rate then soon he would be able to afford more than just a night out at a local restaurant and another bottle for his drinks cabinet.

He was still smiling and enjoying himself when he heard an angry commotion through the wall. He frowned and was about to hit the intercom and demand to know what the bloody commotion was about when the door to his office was flung open with enough force to almost tear it from its hinges. Preston leapt from his chair, reaching a hand under his suit for his pistol in panic.

"You shot my face!" Phillip Pink roared, his expression murderous. 

"Oh, it's you," Preston said, visibly relaxing before scowling at the intruder. "You had me worried for a moment."

"You should be worried, you pompous thug!" Phil barked, slamming the door closed. "I ought to kill you for pulling a stunt like that!"

Preston Northwest glowered at the angry and much larger man as he sat back down, one hand still on his gun. He knew for a fact it would have barely any effect unless he was ridiculously lucky, but it was comforting nonetheless. "No, you should be thanking me for giving you a job," Preston scolded him. "You passed with flying colours and now have the honour of working for me. It's a shame the Pines brothers took you away before we even had time to toast your success," he added, raising his glass.

"I don't drink, you obnoxious scumbag!" Phil snapped. "And they took me away because you shot my face! That bullet could have killed the ki- could have killed me for all you know! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't finish what Axel started?"

"Perhaps this is reason enough?" Preston replied, reaching into his drawer and pulling out a thick white envelope that he slid across his desk. 

Phil glared at the man with hate that, while intense, didn't nearly compare to the degree Preston had witnessed during his interview. Phil stormed over and opened the envelope, raising an eyebrow at the hefty sum inside. "What is this, a bribe?" he demanded. "And did you really have to put it in an envelope and push it across your desk? That's so cliché! I knew you were scum but I didn't think you'd be that unoriginal."

"That is not a bribe," Preston said through clenched teeth, frustrated that someone so destitute could be unimpressed with so much wealth. "It is your first pay check. You were ushered out before I could hand it to you. I was going to give it to you in advance, so as to help you find accommodation as soon as possible and find some attire suitable to your new role. There's a list of shops inside with brands that I demand you wear. I can't have my daughter's bodyguard dressed in common suits. What would people think of me if I allowed that?"

"They'd probably think you were an arrogant piece of crap who treats people like garbage because Daddy didn't hug you enough," Phil grunted as Preston bristled. "And they'd be right. Go to hell, Northwest," the Irishman stated, throwing the envelope back in his face. "I don't need your money. I've got standards, I can do my job without having to work for you." He turned away from the shocked businessman, wondering how he was going to make it up to Dipper for having gone through all that for nothing.

"Y-you can't leave!" Preston protested as he watched the other man leave with growing dread. "You're my employee! I haven't accepted your resignation!"

"I'll write one up and shove it somewhere that you'll have to accept!" Phil snarled as he reached for the door. "No amount of money's worth working for filth like you!"

"But - but - " Preston floundered as he struggled to think of something to make the other man stay. "But what about Pacifica?" he blurted, as much to himself as to the cyborg, seeing her face flash before his eyes.

Phil paused, one hand on the handle. "What about Pacifica?" he asked quietly.

"H-how will you protect her?" Preston asked. "From Axel, and the monsters, and - and from this goddamn town? If not you, then who?"

"You'll find someone else," Phil said with a frown.

Preston let out a short, humourless laugh. "And who else would compare to you? Who else can punch through walls and survive gunshots? All of the other applicants, they may say that they'd risk their lives to protect my daughter - well I know you would!"

"I'll still protect her," Phil answered, but his hand fell from the handle. "I'll protect them all."

"But how much harder would that be if you didn't have what I'm offering you?" Preston challenged. "This way you'll have more resources, you'll have expendable income. A vehicle and a place to stay."

"I don't need you for those! You might find this hard to understand but there are decent people in this town who'll help me find all those things! I don’t need to work for you!"

"Then I ask you again: what about Pacifica? Oh, you may be able to help her. In your spare time. When you aren't working some other job to pay for your meals or assisting someone in exchange for a room for the night. But this way you'll have that and more, all without having to leave her side. And while you're watching her you can still keep a close eye on the others. She's friends with most of those who stayed to fight Cipher. That means you'll be seeing them regardless."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, Phil with eyes a cold fury and Preston with anger tempered with desperation.

Then Phil swore. Then he swore again and again as he ran his fingers through his hair. Preston watched him silently, even as he used language he'd normally never tolerate from his workforce, too aware that the cyborg hadn't fully committed.

"Bloody, stinking, festering, sack of-" Phil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them it was to give Preston a look of utter disgust. "Alright," he sighed, and only then did Preston allow himself to feel relieved. "But there's going to be some conditions."

"Conditions?" Preston repeated coldly, unused to being held hostage by someone he wished to employ.

"Aye, conditions," Phil snapped, finally taking a seat. "One: never shoot me again. I don't give a damn if it doesn't kill me, it's bloody sore and I'll break something if you try it. Okay?"

"That sounds reasonable," Preston said with a nod.

"Second: I'm a cop. Doesn't matter if I'm not one legally, it's what I am at heart. That means I won't stand for any crimes you commit."

"I resent the accusation that I would ever be unlawful," Preston growled.

"Resent it all you like, see if I care,” Phil snapped. “I know your type, Northwest, and I'll jump on any chance to take you down, prove you're not above the rest of us. So if I find you committing any crime - I don't care if it's tax evasion, perjury, even bloody littering - I will inform the authorities.”

"Let me get this straight,” Preston drawled, “You had Stanley Pines act as your chauffeur and yet you warn me against breaking the law? It wouldn’t surprise me if even his bus pass was counterfeit." 

"I'm aware of the irony," Phil stated, his face impassive. "But Stanley Pines always put his family first. He committed most of his crimes out of desperation or to help bring his brother back. I can respect that and I'm willing to overlook some things for it. Within reason. You, however, I don't respect or like, and barely even tolerate. So no misdemeanours and definitely no felonies, got it? Good.”

“Third thing: if my tablet alerts me that any of the Pines family, or McGucket, or even Corduroy are being threatened by the Cipher Cult, and if I see that Pacifica's safe, I will leave to stop them. I don't care if it's a big fancy party and my leaving would embarrass you, I will do it."

"That...I will allow you to leave your post under certain conditions," he said grudgingly. "As long as my daughter is not in harm's way," he added quickly.

"She won't be," Phil stated. "Because that's my last point. And this is the most important," he said, holding up a finger to emphasize it. "I might work for you, but I am  _ Pacifica's _ bodyguard. This is all about her. I'll drive her, watch over her, whatever I have to do to keep her safe. Not just from Axel and the Cult, but from anything and anyone out there. And I do mean  _ anyone _ ," he said, his eyes narrowing. 

Preston's eyebrows flew upwards in indignant rage. "Do you honestly believe I would stoop so low as to harm my own daughter?" he growled.

"Yes."

Preston rose from his chair and gave the other man a hateful gaze. "Has anyone ever told you that your honesty is damn infuriating?"

"Oh aye," Phil replied, nodding vigorously. "Got in trouble for it all the time. Cost me loads of relationships."

"I can understand why," Preston muttered, sitting back down. He had hoped his glare would give the man pause, make him feel a taste of the fear and hesitation he had intilled in him during the interview. But the redhead seemed utterly indifferent to his wrath, not something that Preston was used to. In fact, with the exception of Axel, the last time he could remember anyone who didn't fear his reprisal was last year, when the filthy, smelly boy that Pacifica had hired to stop the ghost had dared challenge him. Preston frowned as he recalled that night. He could tolerate a cyborg standing up to him like that, he had witnessed his strength for himself. But for a child even younger than his daughter to do the same, and at the height of his power? No wonder his daughter had started to become unruly if that was the crowd she associated with.

There had been a time when he could ring a bell and she would have avoided all contact with the boy if he commanded it. Now those days were long gone. He was even paying to reverse the conditioning he had spent years ingraining in her. He had no doubt that the invalid professor found smug satisfaction in that. But what had surprised him was his wife's insistence that he hire her. At first she had been as upset by their daughter's newfound wilfulness as he was. But over time that changed, she had spent more time with Pacifica after they lost their fortune and would speak to him about shared hobbies and experiences, boasting at how well their daughter had adapted to their change of circumstances. Before, Preston and Priscilla had boasted at how disciplined and demure Pacifica was. Now Priscilla was most proud of the antics they wouldn't have tolerated before Never Mind All That, repeatedly telling him how they were wrong to condition her like that, saying they had kept her in a cage and she deserved to be free.

"I...may have not been the best father to Pacifica," Preston admitted.

"That's the understatement of the century," Phil muttered.

"But I do care for her," Preston continued with a stern look, deciding to ignore him for now. "I may not have shown it in the past but...I wish for her to be happy. And safe. Because I don't know what I'd do without her. You can understand that, surely?" he asked, more pleading than either man expected.

"I...understand wanting to protect her," Phil grunted reluctantly. "I've always said I would do anything for my daughter. But I’d never do what you did to yours," he added coldly. "Never."

"Then I suppose that makes you a better father than I," Preston growled.

"Yes. But that’s a very low bar so that doesn’t mean much."

Preston's mouth tightened. "I'm very tempted to respond. But I doubt you'd care about anything I could say to you."

"Pretty much. I hate you and want to kick you in the nuts."

"The feeling is quickly becoming mutual ," Preston replied through clenched teeth. "Unfortunately, I still wish to employ you, despite what you've said to me. You're the best option I have for protecting my family and I'm unwilling to lose that. As such, I agree to your conditions," he said, rising again "However, I have my own."

"Oh?" asked Phil, watching him suspiciously.

"Yes, first you will cease these constant insults," Preston ordered. "I am your employer. Despise me if you wish, I'll even allow the occasional eye-roll or disagreement. But I demand that you at least pretend to respect me, especially in the presence of others."

"Seems fair," Phil reasoned. "As long as you don't expect me to lie. I'm not known for dishonesty."

"Yes, I can see that," Preston said under his breath. "But I doubt that will come up. I'm expecting you to protect my daughter, not act as my mouthpiece. The second is that you will always address me as either Mister Northwest or Sir. Always. Likewise, my wife is Mrs Northwest or Ma'am. You may refer to Pacifica by her first name, she's asked the rest of the help to do so for whatever reason. Now, with that in play, do we have a deal?" he asked, offering his hand.

Phil looked at the hand with contempt before standing. "We have a deal. Sir," he added, ignoring the extended hand as he turned to leave. He was barely at the door when he felt something hit him in the back of the head and he turned to glare at his employer.

"As I said before, I expect you to be in proper attire," Preston said, gesturing to the floor where Phil saw the letter stuffed with green notes. "The suit you are wearing will suffice for now, but tomorrow you can visit the mall and request several to be made for next week. I was also going to give you a few days to settle in before I started your employment, but our conversation has convinced me to change my mind. You will be at my house tomorrow at nine. Do not be late. There, I will give you the keys to the car you will be using until I can afford one better suited to your role. Any questions?"

"Just one," Phil said, counting the money with a frown. "I thought trying to appeal to Cipher cost you your money. How the hell can you afford to give me this?"

Preston smiled a confident and satisfied smile that suited him well, even if he had barely worn it this past year. "My hard work and sacrifices have paid off," he boasted. "I have made some excellent investments and deals and I will continue to do so. I doubt you would care about the details even if you could understand them. Now, that will be all for today. But I expect to see you on time tomorrow, in a suit. Do you understand?"

"I understand. Sir." And with that he left the room, still frowning. He didn't like the way the word sounded when addressed to Preston Northwest. But if he could handle working for a murdering tyrant like Time Baby for most of his life, he could work for Preston Northwest for a few years. He had barely taken any steps away from the door when his tablet let out an alarm, notifying him to a temporal breach. He had it out in an instant, his eyes going wide when he read it. Drawing his plasma pistol, he barged back into the office.

Preston jumped and turned pale as he saw the drawn weapon. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, a hand sliding under his suit jacket. "You were dismissed! How dare you-?"

"There was an alarm on my tablet," Phil said, winking through the settings in his eye. "Temporal ripple. Directly into this office." He scanned the room with every vision he had but saw nothing other than Preston's temperature rise in alarm. "Hmm. Nothing" he said, lowering his weapon as Preston visibly relaxed. "They can happen sometimes after a breach but it's best to be thorough, especially when dealing with-"

"Yes, yes, I understand!" Preston snapped. "But as you can see, I am not in any danger. Now get the hell out of my office!" he barked. "I have more important things to do than waste my time on someone like you."

"Yes, Sir," Phil replied with a nod before he left the office, realising that this would be his life from now on. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling like any other weary and tired fifty-year old who knew they'd be spending the next few years doing a job they hated. But then he thought of the Pines twins young and old, of Soos, and McGucket, and all they'd done for him. All they'd done for others. Most of all he thought about Pacifica and what she'd endured from her father. And he decided that if she could deal with that for her whole life, then the least he could do was watch her back for the next decade.

Inside the office Preston watched his computer screens and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Phillip Pink walk down the stairs and through the doors to where the Pines brothers were waiting. "That man is exceptionally stubborn."

"He's an idiot," Axel corrected, now visible and sitting on the edge of the desk she had been hiding behind when the cyborg had swept the room with his advanced eye. "His moral compass and commitment always made him a pain to work with. But that makes him easy to manipulate," she added, taking a bite from a pale paste that she squeezed from a tube.

"What is that?" Preston asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Protein paste," Axel answered, replacing the lid and tossing it in the bin. "Hunger really weakens the will. Even for someone like Phil."

"I don't understand."

"Guess that's something you'll have to get used to," Axel replied with a shrug. "You don't need to know the details of the plan, you just follow our orders and you'll be rewarded. Speaking of...here." She held out a scrap of paper. "More stock tips. Your reward for being a good little boy."

Preston gave her a scathing look as he snatched the note from her hands, reviewing it eagerly. "Are you sure this is correct?" he asked dubiously.

Axel rolled her eyes. "I'm from the future and have access to time travel. We know our history. Just be sure to buy and sell those exact amounts," she added harshly. "You becoming a billionaire again overnight would be suspicious and we're not afraid to replace you."

"I recall your threat very well!" Preston snapped, the colour rising at his neck. 

"Good. Make sure you never forget it." She glanced at her wrist, frowning at the readings. "I have to go. If I stay any longer that ripple could become a wave. There's no special orders yet so enjoy your money. The only conditions are to continue to behave, keep an eye on Phil, and makes sure your kid continues to attend public school and keeps her job."

“Why on earth would I continue to let Pacifica attend public school?” Preston demanded. “I can afford to send her to private again, what reason could you possibly have for lowering her standards?”

Axel narrowed her eyes as her mouth tightened, drumming her fingers on his desk.

“I mean, yes, of course,” Preston mumbled, glancing away. “Whatever you say.”

“That’s better,” Axel said, checking her wrist again. She frowned, her finger hovering over the device. "Phil was shot. Remind me - how many times and where?"

Preston blinked, surprised that she had forgotten already. "Five. You hit his hand and chest but the guards shot him twice before he climbed the stairs. Why?"

"Just asking," Axel lied before pressing the button, turning a transparent white as she slowly vanished. "We'll be in contact soon enough, Northwest. So remember to behave! We'll be watching you!"

And then he was gone, the deathly silence in the world matching it's solid state as she looked out the window and saw the frozen birds in the distance. Her eyes drifted a little more and she saw a glass suspended in mid-air and that the office door was open. She could hear Northwest moving behind it, the rustle of his clothes and his soft footfalls sounding like a shaking tree and thunder in the stillness of the frozen world. She was very tempted to sneak up behind him and scream, scaring him out of his wits. Then she saw the drinks cabinet and decided to treat herself to that instead, plucking the glass from the air and treated herself to a sizeable amount straight from the stopper, smirking as she heard the man outside jump. 

Wiping her mouth in satisfaction, she poured some more into the glass and walked back over to the desk, taking a seat on it as she looked over the documents; applications and reviews of individuals with backgrounds in security, military or law enforcement, smirking inwardly at how weak their training was to what was available in her time. She sipped the drink. She might not particularly like the man but she had to admit he had exquisite taste in drink.

She looked up as she heard him enter the room and considered the gun he was pointing at her. The archaic projectile weapon amused her slightly but it didn’t matter if he had been holding a bow and arrow, she didn’t like it when people pointed weapons at her.

“Who the devil are you?” Preston growled as he took a step forward, still pointing his pistol at her.

The boss had suggested responding to questions like that with something ominous that hinted at the power of the Cipher Cult. Answers like; ‘the future’, ‘the inevitable', or 'the apostles of the apocalypse.’ But Axel wasn’t really one for witty remarks or phrases, preferring the direct approach. So instead, she flung the glass at him, catching him right between the eyes.

It was a blow strong enough to stagger him, the painful spasm of his finger sending a bullet directly to her face where the shield deflected it. Not a person who enjoyed being struck, even if it was on accident and if she didn’t even feel the blow, Axel ran forward and backhanded the pistol to point away from her as she brought her new knee into his stomach and grabbed him, using her years of experience to swing the tall man into his desk.

She tore the gun from his hand and disarmed it, watching him squirm as the magazine dropped. He tried to throw her off but she easily kept him pinned. When he didn’t desist, she twisted his arm and enjoyed his pained cries. Only when he wised up and stopped struggling did she lean over and speak to him. “Hello, Mister Northwest. I want to discuss your daughter. I know you want to make her life better. I think we can help each other out.”

She let him go and stepped back from the desk, snatching the dropped magazine with her now free hand and keeping the pistol in the other.

Preston winced and rubbed his shoulder, his eyes darting from the woman, to the gun and magazine in her hands, to the still open door. Preston Northwest was many things but a fool wasn’t one of them so he didn’t even attempt to move against her. She’d already shown how pointless that would be. “And how would we be able to do that?” he asked instead.

Axel reached into one of the pockets of her belt drew a folded piece of paper. “Here. These are some stock tips, investment advice, scores for some sporting events in the next few months. I’m sure you can think of something to do with them. Try not to spend it all in one place.”

Preston frowned and took the sheet of paper, unfolding it and raising an eyebrow at the words. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“My name is Rebecca Axel. Call me Axel. Call me anything else and I will punch your face. Repeatedly. I am a former Commander of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squad. Basically, I was a time cop. Now I’m second-in-command to the leader of the Cipher Cult. Sounds like quite the change in occupation but you’d be surprised how similar they are.”

“Time paradox avoidance?” Preston said doubtfully. “Are you saying time travel is possible?”

Axel gave him a look. “You were a piece of furniture for a one-eyed Dorito who almost destroyed reality, but you’re finding time travel hard to swallow? Don’t you remember when Time Baby and a bunch of us crashed through the wall?”

“Time...Baby?” he repeated, thinking back to when he had been turned to stone, still aware of every sight and sound, unable to move or scream or even whimper as Bill joked and debated about what he would do to them. Then he remembered the massive, round creature and his army invading Bill’s sanctum, giving the captives a fleeting moment of hope that they could be rescued from their imprisonment. Only for those hopes to die alongside their would-be saviours as the one-eyed monster merely pointed and destroyed his challengers. And the horror returned as they realised there would be no release from their torture as Bill stacked them together to make his throne.

“Yes, Time Baby,” Axel said impatiently. “He was the giant baby who controlled time. He wasn’t known for his naming skills, it shouldn’t be this hard for you to figure it out. And the boss said you were smart,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, her gloved hand passing through the invisible shield of her helmet.

“How could you have been there?” Preston demanded, deciding to ignore the insult while she still held his gun. “I saw Cipher slaughter you all.”

“I’m not here to explain these things to you, Northwest,” Axel growled. “The less you know, the less likely you are to let something slip. If you’re really curious you can ask Phil when he comes round. He was there too.”

“Who?”

“Phillip Pink. A former colleague of mine. You’ll hate him. And here’s the first thing you can do for us, Northwest. Don’t worry: this will be a mutually beneficial request.” She nodded to the folders on the desk. “I see you’ve been looking for more security for that kid of yours. Well Phillip Pink is the agent who’s been sent back in time to keep an eye on your little town. To protect it from us. Obviously, that’s not something we can just stand by and allow to happen.”

“I am not an assassin,” Preston warned her.

“No, you’d rather pay someone to do the dirty work for you,” Axel replied, giving him a cold stare. “If I wanted Phil dead I’d do it myself. Hopefully, if things go to plan, I will. No, I want you to hire him.”

“You’ve come to me, requesting my help, and now you wish for me to hire the person who’s been tasked to stop you?” Preston looked the woman up and down. “Are you insane?”

“No, but my boss is.” Axel shrugged. “Keeps thing interesting and the benefits are great, so I don’t really care how many pills she should be taking as long as the money comes in. Which it does. This is a mutually beneficial thing for us both, Northwest. I know Phil and he’s had training and experience that is literally thousands of years more advanced than anything those other candidates have. He’ll make an excellent bodyguard. If you can tolerate his attitude. Which you’d better,” she added, reloading the gun and prodding his chest with his own pistol to make her threat clear.

“Ah. So he’s your mole, then?”

A look of confusion crossed her face for a moment as if he’d started speaking in a language she couldn’t understand. Then she threw back her head and laughed, a surprisingly hearty sound that made Preston flush in angry embarrassment. “Oh that is good,” Axel sighed, wiping a tear from her eye as the laughter died. “I’m going to have to tell the boss you said that. No, Phillip Pink is not our -  _ heh  _ \- mole,” she said with a patronizing smile. “You’ve heard the phrase, ‘honest to a fault?’ Well that sums him up nicely. But he’ll do everything in his power to protect your girl. In fact, I’m going to prove that he’d literally take a bullet for her. By shooting him. In the chest and hand.”

“I’m not in the business of hiring cripples if I can help it,” Preston growled. “I find them too needy.”

She stared at him. “What the hell are you - oh. Right. Shooting him in the hand.” She smiled again. “Well you might change your opinion when you see him in action,” she said, her tone condescending. “Just you wait, he’ll take five bullets and then jump out the window, all for his stupid sense of duty.”

“He sounds like a moron,” Preston muttered. “Why would I ever hire someone like that to guard Pacifica?”

“Because we told you to,” Axel hissed, her mirth forgotten. “You shouldn’t question why we tell you these things, you just do them.”

"But I still don't understand why you want me to employ him if he's a threat."

"Never heard of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?" Axel frowned. "Wait, has that phrase been invented yet? It's so hard to keep track sometimes. Anyway, it suits us better if he's working for you rather than being left to his own devices. Makes it easier to locate him. The other reason is because he won't suspect that you're working with us if you’ve hired him. He’s going to be suspicious of you for everything else, but he won’t doubt your intention to keep your daughter safe if I make the attack on her look good enough.”

“If you hurt her-” Preston warned before Axel laughed over him.

“What, you’ll pay someone to wait for thousands of years to break my legs?” Axel sneered. “There’s nothing you can do to me, Northwest. But I can’t hurt your daughter,” she added, the unyielding way she said it surprising him. “The boss needs her alive. If she gets hurt then I might as well let Pink kill me because it’s better than what she’d do to me if I screw this up.”

“You’re afraid of her,” Preston scoffed before he could stop himself, realising too late how stupid it was to mock a woman who’d beat him even when he was aiming a gun at her face.

“Yes,” Axel stated, as if the answer should be obvious, the look in her eyes unsettling him. “I’ve seen her do the impossible. And I know how far she’ll go to accomplish her goal.”

“Which is?” Preston asked, his eyes flashing. “Bill Cipher almost destroyed the world, including me and my family! Why would I help you do the same?”

“Because my boss and most of the Cult might be crazy but I’m not,” Axel responded calmly. “You want to know what our goal is, then you can ask Phil. He’ll give you the speech, the warnings, list the numbers of the dead, blah blah blah. But we’re not a threat to this time. As insane as she is, the boss isn’t suicidal. What’s the point of taking over this crappy century if it kills you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Northwest!” Axel snapped. “I won’t be born until everyone here is long gone. If we conquer the world now, it’ll cause a paradox that would wipe out me and everyone else in the Cult! But if we take over the future? All that technology; the rest of the galaxy open to us! And no risk of a paradox!” She rolled her eyes. “After we win I’m done with this time and everyone in it. I don’t care if you squander the fortune we give you or if you create your own country with it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead. Been that way since before my grandparents were born. Why would I waste my time kicking a corpse when I could be doing something that’s actually important?”

Preston’s fists clenched as he fought the urge to snap back at her for the last remark, his lips curling in anger. But he supposed it made sense. While he hated the woman in front of him, despised her for manhandling him and for speaking to him in a such a disrespectful manner, he had to admit she had a point. There had been a number of times in the past when he could have ruined someone’s life but chose not to. Not for any sentimental reason, but because he knew he was too important to even mention them again, let alone put in the effort and time to destroy them.

“Fine. I suppose I’m...not important enough to fear your retribution,” he growled, barely managing to get the words out. “Unless I go against you. But what makes you so certain I won’t? I’ve been burned by Cipher before, I’m in this sorry state because I wasted my fortune on satiating him even after he turned me into an abomination. A religion centred around that monster is the last thing I wish to be involved in. You’ve already stated that Pacifica is necessary to your plans and, by the sounds of it, so am I. How do you know I won’t betray you to this Phillip Pink?”

Axel dropped the gun and grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him from the ground with. “Because you’re daughter’s survival is vital to us but yours is not!” she hissed at him with bared teeth, her scars shining pale against the angry flush of her skin. “You think you’re irreplaceable? Don’t make me laugh! We’ll kill you if we even think you’re turning against us! But before that we’ll alter your will so that your wife will take your place in the company,” she said in a much softer voice, still lifting him with ease. “And we’ll tell her what we did to you when you betrayed us. How long we took. Maybe we’ll even let her listen to the screams. Oh sure, she’ll hate us for it. But then she’ll think of Pacifica. And whether her daughter could bear to lose another parent in such a horrible way. Then we’ll point out how much your life insurance increased right before you passed and how much richer her family was while working for us. Then we’ll see if your wife is wiser than you were.” She lowered him to the ground and pushed hard, watching his expression with calculating eyes as he stumbled into the desk. “Carrot and the stick, Northwest. It’s how my boss likes to do business.”

“Ah, yes,” Preston said, clearing his throat and trying to return to a dignified posture. “You make a very compelling argument.” He straightened his tie to cover a shiver. “Speaking of your employer...I generally dislike dealing with middle-men. I prefer to meet the one leading, gives me a better feel for the deal. When will I meet her?”

“Not for another few years,” Axel answered, still watching him with narrow eyes. “But she did say you might say something like that and asked me to give you this response.” Axel pulled out a page from one of the pouches on her belt and unfolded it, clearing her throat before she read it. “‘Tell that entitled jerk that this is not a business deal. This is a threat. I’ll meet him when I’m good and ready. If he doesn’t like it, let him know we can kill him and get his wife to do the job for him. If he still complains, kill him and we’ll get the wife to do the job for him. Have fun!’ Then there’s this weird doodle of a - I dunno - a panda playing a guitar? Something like that. Anyway, you can keep this,” she finished, handing him the note. “A little reminder that we can replace you and not even blink.”

“I...see,” Preston replied staring at the note. Which not only had a doodle of a musical animal but numerous drawings of stick men being tortured and killed in a variety of ways, each one with little arrows identifying them as himself. He hesitated as he slid it into his pocket. “I...don’t have a choice in this,” he said, trying to convince himself as he slid his hand into his other pocket and touched the piece of paper with the financial advice.

And then he realised how far he’d fallen. He was Preston Northwest, once one of the richest and most powerful men in the world. And now he was being threatened in his own office by a woman who worshipped the monster that almost destroyed him, offering only a morsel of the power they hoped to gain. And if he didn’t take those scraps then he would be dead. Before today his death would have meant leaving behind a disgraced name and a company in debt. Now it meant that the person who killed him would just turn to his wife and point the gun at her, demanding she not make her husband's mistake. Or else.

“Nope,” Axel said, returning to his drink cabinet. She returned with two glasses but when the despondent man held out his hand for one she merely raised an eyebrow and downed them both. “Now, I can only stay in this town for a short time before the temporal storm picks up again. We need to get Phil here, pronto.” She wiped her mouth and tapped at her wrist.

“Yes, of course,” Preston sighed, brushing at his suit absently, barely even registering the return of sound and movement to the world as time flowed again. “I’ll send word out immediately, requesting his presence.”

“I have a much better idea,” Axel said brightly, tossing the glasses over her shoulder. “But you’re not going to like it.”

Something about the way she said it made him frown. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Axel’s fist connected with his stomach, causing him to heave and double-over. Then she grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head onto his desk, patting his suit until she found his phone, grabbing his wrist and forcing his thumb against the sensor to unlock it, easily overpowering his struggles. “Have to make this look and sound good,” she explained, easily forcing him to his knees as she scrolled through the contacts until she found the one she desired. 

"Hello, Pacifica," she growled into the phone, making sure to give Preston’s wrist another painful twist as she did so. "I’m former-Commander Rebecca Axel. And I can't wait to meet you."

* * *

_ Author’s note: So, I said I wanted to get this second summer in Gravity Falls over and done with before 2020. I was going to end it on a tear-jerker story and at the bottom I would declare: MERRY CHRISTMAS! (or Happy Holidays, whatevs) or HAPPY NEW YEAR!  _

_ Because I’m evil. _

_ Now that’s not gonna happen. Maybe it’s the spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Future uniting to punish me for trying to be cruel at a time that’s meant to be about joy and unity? Maybe karma is real? Maybe it’s because this story’s taken way longer than expected and I’m a slow writer. I blame Phil. He complicates things.  _

_ *Grumbles* Stupid side-character, taking up so much dialogue and story space. _

_ Anyhoo, hopefully I’ll at least get this story finished before the New Year. I’m hoping there will only be one or two more chapters left, but I thought this would only be a six chapter piece so what do I know? _

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

"You okay?" Wendy asked him quietly as he finished his water.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," Dipper sighed, wiping his mouth. "Sorry, that was - I don't know what that was," he admitted sheepishly. 

They sat on a log away from the road, mostly hidden from anyone passing, though no one did. He suspected she had pulled him away more for his benefit than hers, to give him even more privacy after the tears had stopped and the embrace ended.

"Eh, don’t worry about it," she said with a dismissive wave. "All the crap we've been through, I'm surprised this doesn't happen more often."

Dipper nodded but still didn't feel satisfied with her reasoning. "Don't know why it would start now. I mean, it's not like I haven't faced death before. But suddenly everything's so much worse or - it's hard to explain."

"It's like your emotions are dialled up to eleven, all laughter and tears and you know it's weird but you can't stop feeling it anyway," Wendy said, catching him by surprise. "It was the same with me and the girls when we returned to our bodies after being ghosts for a day. I think it's 'cause our hormones weren't messing with our brains in that time. Now they're affecting you again and it'll take a bit of getting used to." She patted his shoulder. "You'll be back to your old self in a few hours, dude."

"Hm," Dipper replied doubtfully, running his fingers through his hair, stopping when he felt the unfamiliarity of the new style.

"My incredible skills of observation detect that you aren't super happy about that," Wendy said, nodding to the bottle he was crushing in his hand.

"It...forget it," he sighed. "It's stupid."

Wendy laughed. "Dude, I live in Gravity Falls so I know dumb when I see it. You tell me what's bothering you and I'll tell you how wrong you are to think it's stupid."

He smiled at that, even if only a little. "It...when I was in Phil's body...I think Northwest's secretary...flirted...with me." He blushed and glanced at her, expecting to see a teasing smirk but instead found a passive expression as she patiently waited for him to carry on. "And that was...weird. I mean, she's way too old for me, or, I guess, too young for Phil, and I didn't exactly hate it or anything but..." He shifted on the log before continuing. "Then, after we swapped back, I went to the shop and there were these girls and they were giggling. At first I thought it was the usual way girls laugh at me, but they...I think they thought I was...cute," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and using his elbow to block her face from his sight, feeling even dumber after saying it aloud.

"And now you're wondering if they'd still think that way if you were your normal self, or if they're just interested in the new clothes and hair," Wendy said, surprising him again. "And since those weren't even your idea, you're wondering if it's really you at all."

"You're very perceptive today," he noted as he lowered his arm to consider her. "You didn't eat some weird mushrooms while you were out camping, did you?"

Wendy gave a mock-gasp. "Are you questioning my outdoorsman skills? And I thought you knew me! Nah, that's not it. I just remembered going through the same thing when I was a little younger than you."

"Really?"

"Heck yeah, dude! You remember that picture I showed you at that party Stan threw last year? The one with me and my brothers?"

"Ah, yeah," Dipper answered, fondly recalling the time when she showed him that she wasn't always the beautiful, cool girl he knew, even encouraging him to show her his birthmark and the first person outside his family to not make him feel self-conscious about it. "You were a freak. Like me."

"Yep!" she grinned. "And I was super stubborn about staying that way, didn't matter what people said. Until one day I met an awesome guy who told me that I could change the outside, make myself look and feel more confident. That, just because it didn't feel like me at the time, it didn't mean I couldn't make it my own."

"It was weird talking to you when you were younger than me," Dipper admitted, scratching his chin. "Surprised you can remember it."

"More of the gist than the whole thing," Wendy shrugged. "At least, usually. Got this weird thing going on where there's different memories floating round. Some days I remember it one way, some days I remember it another. But I prefer the one where you talked to me, made a bad day turn out okay."

"Yeah, I really messed things up that time," Dipper sighed, not even acknowledging her compliment. "Phil said those two timelines are eventually going to have to fight it out and it could end up destroying the whole town."

"Eh, we've survived worse," Wendy said offhandedly. "We'll deal with it then. If it ever happens. I get the impression Phil doesn't know as much as he thinks he does. Got to hand it to the man, though," she said, looking him over. "He's got some taste in clothes. They're stylish but kinda subtle too. They suit you."

"I guess," Dipper grunted. "Still doesn't feel like something I'd wear on my own."

"Well you pick up different styles and stuff as you get older. I mean, you basically told younger me to dress the way I do now but it still took years before I started doing it naturally. But if you're worried about what people think of you, don't worry. Doesn't matter what you wear, you'll still be a massive dork to Mabel and me. And I do like the hair," she admitted. "Bit too neat for you but I think it'll do for the wedding. And it even hides your birthmark! Guess the jerk put some thought into it." She ran her hand over it. "Way too much thought! Feel how hard that is! How much gel did he use? Forget my axe, if we get attacked I'm using you as a battering ram!"

"Shut up!" Dipper laughed, trying to push her hand away.

They laughed and wrestled for a little bit longer, adding a few more jabs and jokes. "Yeah, I like original Dipper better," Wendy said with a sincere smile when the play-fighting came to a natural end. "Doesn't matter about the clothes or the hair, it's the attitude that makes you you, dude."

Dipper smiled and she grinned at seeing his spirits lift. Then his smile vanished suddenly, replaced by something very different.

"You didn't seem to think that way when you and Soos were with Dippy Fresh," he accused her.

Wendy blinked, taken aback by the hostility in his eyes, the betrayal in his voice. The stare continued even as she fumbled for reply, unused to having Dipper's anger directed at her.

She'd seen him annoyed with her before, numerous times, becoming frustrated and irritated by some of her pranks and jokes, especially during this summer. But never outright angry at her, not the way he became with Mabel, Stan, or even Soos sometimes. And even though she'd never experienced it before, she could tell this time it was something significant. 

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Dipper, I-" she began before he brushed her hand off and turned away from her, another first.

She stared at the back of his head for a moment, feeling the anger radiating off him. She rubbed the back of her neck. "That really got to you, didn't it?" she said quietly. When she received no response she sighed and pulled the cap off her head, staring at the blue pine tree. 

"I'm sorry Dipper," she told him. "We went through so much to get Mabel back and then I just...left you. And - and I know it was because of Bill's crazy mind magic and that Soos did it too...but that doesn't excuse it. Good old Wendy. Stick around for the cool stuff, let other people handle the hard crap. Maybe Phil's right about me," she confessed miserably, resting her head in her hands. "Maybe I am just like my mother."

"...What did you just say?"

Wendy lifted her head from her hands to see Dipper staring at her, a mixture of shock and anger.

"Did he really say that to you?" Dipper demanded.

Wendy sighed and sat up straighter. "Yeah. That's what we fought about. In the park."

"And then he hit you?"

"What? No! That was because - that was an accident."

"He shouldn't have said that to you," Dipper growled. "I swear, I'm gonna-"

"It's okay, dude," Wendy said, slightly amused to see him come to her defence after being so angry at her a moment ago.

"It is not okay!" Dipper snapped, jumping to his feet. "Who does he think he is to say that to you?" he muttered, pacing back and forth in front of her. "Can't believe I helped the guy get a job! He’s wrong. You’re nothing like her."

"But-" Wendy hesitated, suddenly finding herself in the opposite position she had been in less than an hour ago. "But she left us! And then I left you and -"

Dipper rounded on her, his finger directly in her face. "You. Are not like your mother," he told her, his tone making it clear he would accept no argument. "You're not. I know you too well. You might be your mother’s daughter, but you’ve got your Dad in you too. The man who works full-time, raises his four kids alone, and still makes time to spend with his family. He didn’t just give you his red hair, he gave you his commitment to family too. His strength. And if Phil can't see that then that's his problem," he added sharply.

"I dunno, man," Wendy said, running her fingers through her hair. "I mean, he was right about me before and-"

"And then you apologised and you've tried to be better," Dipper interrupted, too familiar with his own self-deprecating spiral to let her start her own. "Look, we've all messed up, Wendy. All of us. Me, you, Soos, Stan...Mabel." He glanced down, his throat tightening. "And we'll do it again. Because we're human. And kinda dumb. Even Ford and McGucket have done dumb things and they're older than us and way smarter than we'll ever be! Professor Passuum said that we should get all the dumb things out of our heads now, make room for all the smart stuff. And I like to think she'd know what she's talking about."

"She'd better or the town's in serious trouble!" Wendy joked. Then she punched his shoulder. "Thanks, man," she told him sincerely. "But for what it's worth, I'm still sorry," she added. "And I'm gonna prove it. And then I'm gonna prove that Pink was seriously wrong about me!" she said with conviction. "I'll make him eat his words!"

"Yeah, you will," Dipper said with a confident smile. "And I hope I'm there to see it. And, uh, I'm sorry too, Wendy," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "About snapping at you earlier," he clarified.

"Dude, you don't have to-"

"Please, let me say this?" he asked, the look in his eyes making her hesitate long enough for him to continue. "I understand that you weren't yourself in the bubble. And I don't blame you for falling for Bill's trap. I...I almost did," he admitted, unable to look at her as he did so. "I'm not really mad at you. It's just...I hated it when Bill was in my body. And even though I know Phil's not like that, I didn't want to be reminded of it. Everything he did to me." He cleared his throat, shrugging his shoulders as if to push an invisible weight off them. "Then I remembered how different Bill was from me," he continued, still averting his eyes and not catching Wendy's concerned frown. "And I knew Phil would be the same. Like me but...better."

"He wasn't better!" Wendy snapped. "Phil's a jerk and Bill was a monster!"

"Well, yeah," he agreed, giving her a sad, faltering smile. "But they still had more style. They dressed better, had better posture, and were more confident. Just like...just like Dippy Fresh. A cooler, more popular me. A...more supportive, backup Dipper."

Wendy hesitated, the words sounding familiar to her. "Is this why you've been fighting with Mabel?" she asked him quietly. "Because of Dippy Fresh?"

Dipper closed his eyes, remembering the day in Mabel's bubble as if it were yesterday, expecting to rush in and save the day, only to find that she didn't want to be rescued. That she didn't need _ him _. 

"She replaced me, Wendy," he whispered. "Me. After everything I've done for her. And - and if it was just a fake me, that I could understand. Because if I had been in her place I wouldn't have been happy if Mabel wasn't there either. But she didn't want a copy. She wanted someone better."

"Dude, you know that's not true!" Wendy protested. "Like you said, it was Bill's magic! And Mabel apologised for it!"

Dipper opened his eyes, looking at her in misery and guilt. "I know. But that doesn't make it hurt any less."

"And what did Mabel say when you told her that? Dipper?" She frowned at him as he didn't respond. "You have told her, right?"

"Tell her what?" Dipper sighed, sounding more weary and drained than a boy his age should. "'Hey, Mabel, remember that time Bill messed with your mind and gave you everything you wanted while people were dying and the town was being destroyed? That thing that's tearing you up inside and you need to see a psychiatrist about every day? Well, while we're on the subject, there's this thing you did that really ticked me off.'" He shook his head miserably. "I can't do that to her, Wendy. She already feels terrible. She needs me to help her get through it. I can't...I don't know how to say it without hurting her. And she's already hurting, Wendy. She doesn't need me to make it worse.”

"Dude, she's not the only one hurting," Wendy protested. "You matter too! I'll help you if you want but - but you need to tell her. Please? For me?"

"I don't know how, Wendy," he confessed. "I've been struggling with it for so long. I thought...I thought my resentment would go away. Heck, I thought I was over it! But it keeps coming back and...and now she's...!" Dipper let out a groan of despair and sat back down on the log, burying his face in his hands. "She cries herself to sleep, Wendy," he whispered. He felt her hand on his back and felt no comfort from it. "She tries to hide it but I hear her sometimes. And I know her; it isn't just because Bill tricked her. It's because he spared her too. She can’t believe she had fun while people were dying."

He felt Wendy’s sudden flinch and raised his head as she drew her arm back.

"Dipper," Wendy said quietly, gripping her hat tightly as she looked away. "There's something I have to tell you."

“Um,” said Dipper, her tone immediately putting him on edge. “O-okay?”

“And...if you don’t...if you don’t want to be friends after it then...then I’ll understand.”

Dipper stared at her, her words and the way she said them sending alarm bells screaming in his mind. “Why would you ever think I’d-?”

“Because Phil didn’t just call me out for leaving you guys,” Wendy said, still unable to look at him. “Before that he said - he said...he said I enjoyed Weirdmageddon.”

“But-”

“I did, Dipper,” she told him before he could rush to her defence. “And I don’t just mean in Mabel’s bubble. Before that. Even before I found you or Toby, I was having...fun.”

“...What do you mean, you had fun?” he asked her very quietly.

“I mean I freaking loved it, dude!” she practically yelled, feeling the knife twist her insides even as she confessed. “It was exciting! Thrilling! There were monsters to fight and stuff to do! There was nobody to yell at me when I broke into the mall and stole the equipment, no need to study or research like you did before we went into the bunker or fought the Blind Eye guys! It was just action and adventure and I felt...free.” She sighed and put her head in her hands. “People were dying and I was having the time of my life,” she whispered. 

She closed her eyes and braced herself for his response, expecting either a condemnation or a denial of what she knew in her heart to be true, unsure which would make her feel worse but certain she deserved it.

Instead, there was a silence that dragged on for what felt like an eternity until she couldn’t take it anymore. “Say something, dude,” she pleaded, still unable to look at him. “Yell at me or curse me or...or tell me how disappointed you are even, but...please say something.”

She heard him shift on the log beside her. And when he eventually spoke it was to say something she never expected.

“Oh,” he said, very quietly. “I can understand that.”

Wendy lifted her head to finally stare at him. “W-what did you say?”

“I said, I can understand that,” he admitted, shifting even more under the intensity of her stare. “I would have enjoyed myself too if I wasn’t so worried about Mabel.”

“But-” she hesitated, wondering how he couldn’t see how momentous this was, how earth-shattering it was to her. “But people died! And - and I had fun!”

“Did you have fun because they died?”

“Of course not, dude!” she cried, hurt that he could even ask.

“Of course you didn’t,” Dipper said with a simple nod. “You had fun despite it. Just like the way Mabel finds the funny side even when we’re in danger.”

“Dipper, that’s not the same!” she yelled. “She does that because - because that’s how she deals with stress and because she doesn’t want to freak people out! But I didn’t worry about anyone else! I didn’t care! I didn’t search for my family or you or anybody! I just - all I cared about was myself,” she said, her shoulders dropping along with her voice.

“So you were only pretending you were happy when you found me in the mall?”

“What? No! I was, but-”

“And you wished you hadn’t found Toby Determined and taken him to your hideout?”

“No, but-”

“Shut up, Wendy.”

Wendy froze, the words like a bucket of water to her face. “Did you just tell me to shut up?” she asked, barely able to believe it.

Dipper smiled at her, partially amused and just a little cheekily. “Yeah. Because you’re on a slippery slope of self-criticism and if you don’t stop now you’ll just gain momentum. Take it from someone who knows. If anyone starts focussing on all the mistakes they’ve made, they’ll be there all day. You feel bad about Weirdmageddon. I get that - I do. Because-” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Because in a lot of ways, Weirdmageddon was everything I could have wished for.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, more confused than anything else.

“I'm saying Weirdmageddon was everything I could have wanted,” he repeated, louder. “I had proof the supernatural was real and no one could deny it! I was on a mission to save the world and helped build a giant robot that fought demons! Heck, if I wasn't so worried about Mabel...in fact, you know what? Even when I _ was _worried about Mabel, I still had brief bits of fun! I fought monsters and proved I could survive on my own, just like I always wished I could! I -" he hesitated, catching himself just in time.

_ I got to spend more time with you _, he almost said, and felt his gut churn at how selfish that was.

“I got to play the hero,” he said instead, glancing away as she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “People were dying and a part of me felt happy that I’d finally been proven right. But that doesn’t make us bad people, Wendy,” he added, his mouth setting firmly. “Mabel and I’ve almost been crushed, stabbed, and even eaten. And instead of being terrified and locking ourselves in our room, we talked about how fun it was and how we couldn’t wait for more. That’s crazy! But we’re not. And we aren’t bad people either. We’re just...adventurous. Like you. I know that because I know you. And Phil doesn’t. Not really.”

Wendy watched him carefully, the same scrutinizing expression on her face as he shuffled uncomfortably. “What do you mean, ‘play’ the hero?”

Dipper blinked. “What?”

“You weren’t ‘playing’ the hero, Dipper, you are one,” she told him.

Dipper faltered, wondering why she was focused on that instead of his praise of her. “Um, I don’t think-”

“I don’t care if you don’t think you are, I’m telling you that you are,” Wendy interrupted, her voice firm. “I know what I’m talking about.” She held up her hat and showed him the pine tree symbol. “Mabel told me that when she met Pink’s daughter, she was wearing a hat just like this. That between thanking her for helping clear her dad’s name, she couldn’t stop asking questions about you. Gushing about how awesome you are and how much she looks up to you. That she’s your biggest fan and, even though she’s eighteen, she wants to grow up to be more like you.”

Dipper blushed, clearing his throat. "I’m...sure she was exaggerating,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m nobody’s hero.”

“The hell you aren’t!” Wendy snapped. “You’re mine.”

Dipper stared at her, her statement seeming too outlandish to be true. “What?”

“Why the hell did you think I kicked Jenna in the face for touching this?” she demanded, waving the cap in front of him. “Or Gill Reid when he tried to take it to dress up as you for Halloween? I lost it because Soos was right and this is your symbol, damnit! And there’s no way in hell I was going to let someone like them wear the original! Nobody touches this thing unless they’ve earned it! Got it?”

Dipper scanned her face, trying to find even the tiniest hint that she was kidding or exaggerating and finding none. “But...why?” he asked, still struggling to come to terms with her words.

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously asking me that after all the stuff I’ve seen you do? All the mysteries you’ve solved, the monsters you’ve faced, all the brave crap you’ve done?” Wendy stood up and planted the hat on his head, pushing it down hard. “It’s because you, Dipper Pines, are the coolest person I know,” she told him. “And when I grow up, I want to be more like you.”

Dipper pushed the brim up, still staring at her and searching his brain for a reply that could convey the gratitude her words caused in him.

“Mason,” he said. “My real name is Mason.”

“”Huh.” Wendy cocked her head to the side, considering his revelation. “Mason,” she repeated. Then she grinned and pulled the brim of his cap down hard. “Pretty cool name.”

* * *

Mabel paced back and forth as she waited for her brother’s return. She glanced at the clock, wondering if there was a way to make time move faster than sixty seconds per minute and making a mental note to check with Phil.

Her Grunkles had phoned the Shack to let them know what happened during the interview, how upset Dipper seemed and that he should be there in an hour. Two hours ago.

Adding to her concern was a phone call from the Sheriff’s department, Mabel listening in as Sheriff Blubs informed Soos that they’d received reports of Dipper yelling at Wendy in the park, both of them openly and loudly breaking the Never Mind All That Act. Mabel had butted in, anxiously asking for more details but Blubs had been unwilling to give any, stating he didn’t want to have to arrest himself as it might drive Deputy Durland to tears.

Mabel let out an agonised groan and tried to phone Wendy. She wasn’t sure why Wendy was back so early but from what little she overheard, she was fairly positive it was Phil, not Dipper, who’d quarrelled with their redheaded friend. But maybe she was wrong - Blubs hadn’t given her a specific time of the incident and maybe Dipper’s bad mood had reached a level where not even Wendy Corduroy was safe. She thought the former to be the more likely but couldn’t reach either to check. 

If Wendy had returned early then maybe she hadn’t had a chance yet to charge her phone? Dipper mentioned she did that sometimes, too eager to get away from her family after spending so many days with them. She’d tried Dipper’s phone earlier, only to hear it ring upstairs; Phil forgetting it completely in his eagerness to leave. 

When there was no answer yet again, she ran upstairs, fully intending to fulfil Stan’s threat of making embarrassing missing person posters. She had just found the worst picture to use when she glanced out the window for the dozenth time since committing to her task and saw a flash of red in the distance, walking down the road towards the Shack with a smidge of blue near it.

Mabel jumped up and pressed her face against the glass, squinting to make the smaller figure clearer. Still unable to confirm the identity of the second figure, she rushed to find a pair of binoculars Dipper kept in the hopes they might prove useful, though so far she couldn’t think of one time they had. When she found them she returned to the window and saw that - yes! - it was her brother walking beside the tall teen.

Mabel let out a sigh of relief at his safe return. As she continued to watch, however, her relief turned to frustration at seeing how relaxed and happy he seemed, ignorant to the concern his absence had caused her. She growled as he said something that made the redhead laugh, the way he grinned and smiled even as she pushed him hard enough to make him stumble. He corrected his hat and looked up at her happily, the same way he had so often during that first summer, the pine tree cap on his head making the parallel to his younger self even more obvious.

“Oh, Dipper,” Mabel sighed, shaking her head and recalling how demoralised her brother had been in the days after his ill-fated confession. “You’re too stubborn. You know you’re just going to get hurt again.” 

She thought back to her own list of crushes, all of them resulting in disappointment or heartache, recalling the stab of loneliness she’d felt as those relationships ended or never even started. And that was with the support of Dipper and her friends. If she didn’t have that then -

“Oh,” Mabel winced as realization struck. “Aw poop.”

She returned the binoculars to where she found them and made her way downstairs to find Melody wiping the shelves while Soos swept the floor.

“Hey, Hambone,” Soos greeted her. “You need help with those posters or something?”

Mabel shook her head. “Don’t need them. He’s outside with Wendy.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Melody breathed, a small weight off her shoulders as Soos leaned over to peer out the window and saw the teens approach. “Why don’t we go out and-?”

“Um, actually...” Mabel began, Soos and Melody pausing at her hesitant tone and the way she held herself. “It looks like he’s coming in through here so I was wondering if I could get the room for a minute? There’s something I need to say to Dipper.”

Soos and Melody looked at each other in surprise.

“Of course, Mabel,” he told her gently. “This is as much your and Dipper’s home as it is mine.”

“I’m sure Soos’ grandmother would appreciate some help in the kitchen,” Melody added. “You take all the time you want.”

“Thanks,” Mabel said as they left, jumping on the register stool and waiting for her brother.

“Then Pacifica hit Phil with the antidote just as he was about to make out with Stan!” Dipper explained as they reached the Shack. “Mabel was supposed to do it but she wanted to take a picture of it to blackmail him.”

“Ugh, I kinda wish she had!” Wendy laughed. “That sounds super gross but I would’ve loved to see how much we could get Stan to do!”

Dipper chuckled as he climbed the steps and pushed at the door, pausing when he noticed she was still standing at the foot of the steps. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Wendy replied with a shrug. “Was gonna let Soos know I’m back, see if he needed me early. But now it’s getting pretty late so you can let him know and I’ll text him after my phone’s charged. I’ll be by tomorrow anyway, I want to hear the rest of the story.” She glanced to the side and saw Mabel through the window. “Besides, you should talk to Mabel.”

“Uh,” Dipper said, his good spirits falling. “I, uh, I don’t know if-”

“I get that it’s hard, dude. And that this is different from your other fights. But you still need to tell her.”

“Yeah, I know” Dipper sigh. “But I still don’t think I can hurt her like that. Not...not right now. She’s been through so much.”

“She’s not the only one,” Wendy gently reminded him. “And the longer you wait, the worse it’ll get, so I think you should do it. But I’ll understand if you can’t,” she added sympathetically. “Either way, whenever you do talk to her about it, I’ll have your back.”

“Thanks, Wendy,” he said giving her a grateful smile. “That’s makes things a little easier.” He removed the hat and offered it to her, surprised when she held up a hand to stop him.

“Keep it,” she told him. “I told you that thing was a symbol and I meant it. And one day I’m going to prove I’m really worthy of wearing it. You can give it to me then.”

Dipper opened his mouth to argue. Then he closed it. “Okay,” he said. “When you’ve earned it. Movie night here, tomorrow?”

“That sounds great,” Wendy agreed. “I’ll see you then.” She turned to leave, barely even taking a step away before he called out to her.

“Hey, Wendy?” 

She turned and he quickly stretched, her tall stature and distance meaning he had to stand on tiptoes to reach her, even with the added height of several steps.

“I told you I’d give it back when you’d earned it,” Dipper explained as she gave him a puzzled look, one hand on the cap he’d returned to her head. “Which you have. And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see wear that hat.”

Wendy blinked, surprised by his confidence in her even though she’d seen it so often before. Then she grinned. “That was such a cheesy thing to do!” she laughed. “You are such a dork!”

“Yeah, but I’m a heroic dork,” he grinned back.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You are. Thanks, man. This means a lot to me.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “What are friends for?”

She smiled again and walked away, the two friends waving goodbye and feeling much better thanks to the other.

He was still smiling when he entered the Shack, though it faltered when he noticed his sister clearly waiting for him.

“Hi, Dipper.” She looked him up and down, noting his new clothes and hair. A part of her wanted to comment on it immediately, to compliment the change. But she decided that could wait until later, better to get the hard part over with now. “Can we talk?”

“Oh,” he said, deflating as he felt the tension in the air. “Um...yeah,” he said, recalling what Wendy had said to him, wondering how to reveal the truth in a way that would hurt her the least.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Dipper’s eyes narrowed. “What for?” he asked, growing suspicious despite his best efforts.

“For lots of things,” Mabel said, scratching her head awkwardly. “For, well, everything. But most of all I’m sorry for all the jokes I’ve made about you and Wendy this week,” she added quickly, sensing how dissatisfied he was with her vague apology. “Telling you that you need to get over her or that it’s...doomed to failure.”

She gave a brief, guilty smile. “I shouldn’t be one to judge after the list of disasters I’ve had. I mean, I still don’t...think it’ll end well. But that shouldn’t matter!” she was quick to add upon seeing him flinch even as she spoke the truth. “You didn’t think any of my crushes would go anywhere and you still helped me, even when it was almost a weekly basis. At least with Wendy...we can both see why you’d be into her. If I met a guy like that...maybe I’d struggle to get over them too. And instead of teasing you about it or telling you it won’t work - I should support you. Whether you want to move on or not. Because that’s what you’d do.”

She stepped forward and put her arms around him, holding him gently. “You’re the best brother in the world,” she told him. “So I’m sorry for not doing for you what you’ve always done for me.”

Dipper hesitated as he felt her squeeze. He thought of his conversation with Wendy, how he both yearned for and feared confronting his sister about his doppelganger. He wondered if he’d ever get a better opportunity to bring up the reason for his anger, even if it did hurt her.

Then he saw a flash from the rifle’s barrel, felt the impact of the bullet as he toppled, his sister’s upset face painted on the ceiling as he lay on his back, terrified he’d never see her again and wishing with all his might he could apologise to her one last time.

He hesitated once more before returning the hug. “It's okay, Mabel. People...people just make mistakes,” he said as he made his own; pushing his thoughts and fears down once more.

Because why make a bad day worse?

* * *

From the journal of Dipper Pines:

_ I’m a hero. _

_ According to Wendy and Mary Pink, anyway. _

_ But I don’t feel like one. I feel like a coward. I know I should have told Mabel the truth about why I’ve been so mad at her. To confront her about replacing me. That I should close this book, walk downstairs, and talk to her about it. _

_ But I can’t. _

_ I’m not brave enough. I know that Wendy and Professor Passuum are right, that it will get worse and I should do it now before it’s too late. But I don’t want to make her unhappy. She’s been through so much already. We came back to Gravity Falls hoping for more adventure, more time with friends and family. But this summer seems to be tainted with guilt and regret. I can’t add my own bitterness to it. Not right now. Maybe when we get home? I’ll prepare a speech, plan it out and then on a day when I think she can handle it-” _

“Ha!” cried the Leader of the Cipher Cult. “That bit always cracks me up,” she sighed, flicking several pages ahead of the large blue tome with the golden pine tree emblem on the front, until she found the page that detailed his confession. “Should have spoken about it sooner. But you always did procrastinate when it came to revealing your true feelings.” She sipped her coffee as she returned to the original page, scrolling a little further down.

_ I guess Preston Northwest with a gun will be another nightmare I can add to the list. Maybe third place after Bill and the Shapeshifter? Oh, wait, fourth. Just remembered the Summerween Trickster. Man, I've had one messed up childhood. _

_ Anyway, at least Phil’s got a job and Pacifica’s got her bodyguard. She even texted Mabel to let her know her father’s allowing her to attend public school next year- _

The Cipher Cult Leader gave a self-satisfied smirk.

_ -which she seems really happy about. Personally, the idea of any high school terrifies me. But I’ll deal with that when the time comes. Mabel’s also thinking of asking Phil to be the bouncer to Soos and Melody’s wedding. At least he’ll be far away from Wendy. _

_ Overall, a terrible day. But we still won, even if it wasn’t easy. And it’s a load off my mind to know someone’s going to be here to watch out for the Cipher Cult. But I’m still worried about Axel. Even with his cybernetics, she proved a tough fight for Phil! What does that say for the rest of us? She’s still out there and who knows when she’ll appear? _

The Cipher Cult glanced at the clock. “Right about now,” she said out loud, finishing her coffee and stretching before vaulting over her desk. She whistled to herself as she made her way down to the lab, her hands behind her back, one holding the book, the other clasping her wrist.

“Good evening, Doctor!” she cried joyfully as she stepped into the medical research lab, seeing the leader of one of her research groups talking animatedly with his team. “Is the patient ready for surgery?”

The doctor swallowed loudly as he saw her expectant grin. “Um, yes, well, about that,” he said, licking his lips as the sweat gathered on his brow. “Um, the, er, patient is actually...intact?”

The Cipher leader cocked her head to the side as she stared at him. “Say whaaaaaaat?”

The Doctor and his team looked at each other, exchanging shrugs and bewildered expressions.

“Um...whaaaaaaat?” he said, his team doing the same.

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t really mean - oh forget it. Let’s see her.”

He nodded and led her to an adjoining room where Axel was laid out on an operating table, giggling frantically, her pupils wide as the full moon, her face still caked in the sparkly powder.

“We’ve ran some tests on the substance,” the doctor explained as his boss walked around her hallucinating warrior. “She should recover within the hour with no serious side-effects. Some stomach cramps, dehydration, possibly diarrhea if she’s had too much, but nothing hazardous in the long run. And as you can see, her arm is bruised but definitely not in need of amputation.”

The Cipher Cult Leader frowned as she poked Axel’s right arm. “Could have sworn…” she mumbled, opening the book. 

“Yes, it is a pity,” the scientist sighed forlornly, turning away from Axel to look at the tray beside her. “I was so looking forward to testing the new design,” he whispered, running a hand over the metal arm.

“Bootstrap, not Grandfather,” muttered the Cipher Cult Leader, frowning as she read.

“I beg your pardon?” asked the scientist, wondering if he’d misheard.

“Nothing.” She snapped the journal closed. “Can she hear us?" she asked, waving a hand in front of the other woman's eyes. 

"Oh no," the doctor said with obvious certainty. "She's completely out of it. Probably having the time of her life! Until it's over, anyway."

"I see. In that case, proceed with the operation, Doctor,” she instructed leaning over and scraping some of the hallucinogenic candy from the other woman's face.

"But - but her arm's intact!" he said, glancing between the women and the cybernetic limb. "If she finds out-"

"She's high as a satellite, Doctor," the Leader of the Cipher Cult replied, standing up straighter. "Tell her Phillip Pink tore her arm from its socket and she's lucky we finished the new design."

The doctor stared at her, then turned back to the metal limb, the one he'd spent so long designing. "It would be a waste of an opportunity," he said with a small smile.

"That's the ticket!" his boss cried, clapping him on the back. "I knew there was a reason I liked you! Let me know when she's up," she added, licking the Smile Dip from her fingers. "I've got some ideas to run by her."

She whistled as she returned to her office, a skip in her step as she felt elation and satisfaction, wondering how much of it was due to the expired candy. She grinned as she opened the journal and turned page after page. She read about clones, truth serum, and a wedding. She looked further, past a sorceress, ghosts, a shapeshifter, werewolves, alternate dimensions, heart-ache and elation, all the way to the end where -

"Where we win!" cried a spidery-crab on her shoulder, raising its claws in victory.

"Yep!" she agreed, rubbing it's pale flesh affectionately as the walls melted.

"Some of us do," muttered a downhearted teddy bear on her desk, looking yearningly at a picture of a red wolf.

"Aw! Such a sourpuss!" she teased, grinning at his misery. "No place for that attitude in our clubhouse," she said, pushing him off her desk, much to the joy of the fleshy spider-crab, and the indifference of a toy robot searching for its missing limb. She gathered her new friends in her arms, her eyes sparkling as the froth gathered at her mouth. "Now," she asked, "who wants to help me build a pyramid?"

* * *

Phil climbed out of the car, clumsily unfastening his tie. "What's the point of these things?" he demanded. "All they do is get in your way and cut off circulation! It's stupid!"

"They make you look more dignified and handsome," Pacifica told him with an amused smile as she stepped out of the vehicle.

"I don't need a stupid piece of cloth to do that!" Phil protested. "I'm naturally sexy!"

"I suppose I can talk to Dad about letting you avoid wearing it," Pacifica suggested as she helped him gather the ice cream from the trunk. "Say it's a choking hazard and Axel could grab it if you two fight again."

"When," Phil corrected, opening the shop door for her. "I know her and there's no way she'll stop. But for now, let’s enjoy ourselves. It's my job to worry about her, not yours. Hey, we're here!" he called out to the Shack, throwing a dirty look at the teenager behind the counter.

"Phil!" Mabel cried as she barged in, throwing her arms wide as if she hadn't just seen them both yesterday and the day before. "Paz! ICE CREAM!"

"Don't call me that."

"What's all this?" Dipper asked, staring at the assortment of expensive tubs.

"Just my way of saying thanks for everything," Phil explained as Mabel tore open the bags and showed each of them to Waddles. "There's plenty for everyone so help yourself."

"Aw, sweet!" Soos cried, lifting his eye-patch to marvel at the tokens of gratitude. "You got the good stuff!"

"Pacifica has good taste," Phil said, patting the teen’s head affectionately, much to her annoyance. "You'd better put them in the freezer before they melt,” he added, pausing to take something from one of the bags. “Or eat them. You're call."

"We'll take them to the kitchen at least," Melody said very loudly. "We just cleaned this place and don't need anything to spill over the floor."

Mabel gave a guilty chuckle and returned the lid to a tub - much to Waddles' disappointment - before helping the others carry the desserts to the kitchen.

Wendy rose to help but stopped when Dipper put a hand on her elbow and cleared his throat pointedly at the Irishman.

Phil rolled his eyes before reaching into his wallet, moving past the smaller notes Pacifica had returned for two much larger ones. He placed one on the counter and pinned it down with a white box.

"What's this?" Wendy asked, eyeing both box and money warily.

"Apology," Phil grumbled, giving her the evil eye as he held out the second note to Dipper. "Shouldn't have said what I did. Sorry."

"And?" Dipper asked harshly, snatching the money.

"And I won't do it again," Phil growled through clenched teeth.

"Uh-huh." She glanced at Dipper before opening the box and saw a cake that looked as delicious as it did expensive. She gave a brief smile before reaching over and pulling Dipper's ushanka over his eyes without even looking at him. "And the C-notes?"

Phil's expression changed from one of barely suppressed rage to confusion before he saw her finger on the hundred dollar note. "Oh. The money. Dipper told me you two were fined for talking about Weirdma- Never Mind All That. He...suggested that I pay for you both since it was all my fault and explained even talking about it's illegal. Stupid law," he added bitterly.

"That it is," Wendy agreed, slipping the money into her jeans. "Apology grudgingly accepted. You futuristic piece of crap."

"Criminal scum."

"Uptight freak!"

"Filthy degenerate!"

"Son of a-"

"We were gone for less than a minute!" Pacifica complained as she and Mabel returned to the shop to find Wendy on her feet, defiant even as Phil loomed over her, both redheads baring their teeth. "Can't you even go that long without insulting each other?"

"Or at least hate each other in secret?" Mabel suggested. "It's what girls do!"

"I'd rather openly express my contempt for her," Phil said. "I hate her and want to punch her in the face."

"Yeah, me too," Wendy concurred. "He's a scumbag and I want everyone to know it."

"Oh joy, they're united on something!" Pacifica muttered, rolling her eyes as Dipper shook his head and Mabel sighed.

"But I’ll have to set a limit on my insults and criticisms because I'm going to be coming here often for gifts for Mary and I don’t want to risk getting banned," Phil stated.

"And I can't afford to be too rude to a frequent customer and get fired," Wendy conceded. "So I suppose we'll have to keep our mutual hatred at least slightly in check. Agreed?" She held out her hand.

Phil’s mouth twitched as he looked down at her hand. Then he muttered something under his breath about her still being technically better than Preston Northwest and shook it. "Now while we're on the subject of souvenirs," he said, his eyes glancing upwards. "My daughter's a massive Dipper fan. How much for the-?"

"Touch my hat and I'll shove my axe right up your-!"

"Bloody hell!" cried Phil, taking a step back as Wendy clamped one hand on her head and the other reached for her weapon. "Relax! I was only asking!"

"Don't worry, Phil," Mabel told the disappointed cyborg. "Even if you can't get the hat, I'm sure Mary will still be plenty pleased when you tell her how Wendy reacted."

"What does that mean?" Wendy asked, glancing at Pacifica and Dipper, who could only offer her confused looks and shrugs in response.

"None of your business, Corduroy!" Phil barked. He rolled his eyes as Mabel giggled. "Right, who wants to get out of here?" he asked the trio of younger teens, turning away from Wendy, who extended a finger at his back. "Why don't I treat you three to mini-golf?"

"We can do teams!" Mabel suggested. "Are you any good?"

"Absolutely terrible," Phil stated with confidence.

"Perfect! Pacifica’s amazing at it so you can be on her team - even it out."

"I didn't think mini-golf had teams?"

"It does if you ignore the rules! I'll explain on the way. But we need to keep an eye out for the Lilliputtians in case they still hold a grudge. Which reminds me: we really need a bouncer for the wedding..."

"Hey, Pacifica?" Wendy called before the younger girl followed them outside. "Mabel told me your family's getting rich again. But you'll still be starting at Gravity Falls High this year. That true?"

"Uh, yeah," Pacifica replied with a frown. "Why?"

Wendy shrugged as she got to her feet and walked over to the door. "Just thinking. High school can be a nightmare. Don't want to give people ammunition to treat you bad. It might be best if you don't have your bodyguard or driver take you there every day. That would almost be as bad as having your dad drop you off in his prized...what? Ferrari?"

"Rolls Royce," Pacifica corrected absently. Then she gave the more experienced teen a grateful smile. "Thanks, Wendy. That's good advice."

"Anytime," Wendy casually replied, leaning against the door frame as the blonde jumped in the car. _ Rolls Royce, _ she thought as she watched them, thinking of the fear in Dipper's eyes and the way he trembled in her arms. _ Got to remember that. _

"Seatbelt," Phil commanded as Pacifica closed her door. "Sure, I'll be the bouncer. Is there any special theme for the wedding or will it be a normal suit?"

"Nah, no theme," Mabel said as Phil checked the mirrors. "Even all us gals are just wearing whatever dress looks best for us. Except Wendy. She's wearing a suit too."

"Didn't think she'd be one for dresses," Phil agreed as he started the engine. 

"It's not that," Pacifica said with a shrug. "She was going to wear one. But then Gideon suggested that if she wore a suit she could have a flannel bowtie.”

Phil slammed the breaks, the stop so sudden the kids would have went flying if they hadn’t worn their seatbelts. Parking the car, he undid his seatbelt and opened his door.

“And another thing!” Phil roared, shaking a fist at the cashier, who frowned at him from the doorway. “Flannel is not a colour! It is a type of fabric! You. Bloody! EEJIT! So explain the team up rules to me again?” Phil calmly asked Mabel as he stepped back inside the car and continued the journey, indifferent to the fuming redhead flipping him the bird from the steps of the tourist trap.

Mabel looked up at the cyborg, considering his burst of rage and his sudden return to tranquillity. “You know something, Phil?” she said as Dipper and Pacifica exchanged looks. “Something tells me you’ll fit into Gravity Falls just fine.” 

THE END

* * *

_ Author's Note: This is the most Phil-centric story I’m planning for a while. Phil is, and should always be, a side character. Sure, he’ll appear often. And if there’s a story with time travel or Pacifica he’ll be more prominent. But he should never be the star of any story, not while I have Dipper, Mabel, Wendy, and Pacifica. I created him because...well, for a few reasons. _

_ First: I wanted to write a story where the gang are warned about this villain, they meet him and agree he's a threat, and then they realise he's not so bad after all. Wanted to see if I could do a story with a twist and, judging by the lovely comments on A Pink Time Problem, I succeeded. _

_ The second reason was comedy. I've thought of a whole lot of jokes at Phil's expense. Ranging from his lack of understanding about this century, his obsession with Candip and a certain cartoon, even the downsides of his cybernetics. I’m not gonna go easy on him. _

_ The third is the Cipher Cult. They're a futuristic terrorist group armed with lasers, cybernetics, and several other surprises. I figured the Mystery Shack Crew needed one powerful person to act as their party tank. Someone who could assist them, give the group some information on the Cult, the future, and the nature of time travel. And a time-cop cyborg fits that bill nicely. _

_ Side-note: Cipher Cult Leader's a bit of a mouthful. Think I’ll start referring to her as C.C. Leader outside the stories. When I do eventually introduce her (I think somewhere around summer four?) I'll probably have Mabel create the nickname in-universe. _

_ The final reason I created Phillip Pink was Pacifica. _

_ When I first started my fanfics, I was worried my stories would be almost entirely from Dipper and Wendy's POV since I find them easiest to write. I thought Mabel, Pacifica, and Gideon would be the hardest, which would be a shame since I wanted to develop them all. It turns out I needn’t have worried too much: both girls have come along surprisingly well and hopefully my Gideon will improve with practice. _

_ But another reason I wanted Phil to be Pacifica’s bodyguard was to give her a guardian, a parental figure. Dipper and Mabel have their parents and their Grunkles. Wendy has her Dad and, to a lesser degree, the Stans. Gideon has his parents and Ghost-Eyes. The way I’ve written Pacifica...she doesn't really have anyone like that. Her father is distant at best. Her mother tries but still allowed her daughter to be used as little more than a trophy for years, even if she deeply regrets it now. _

_ Phillip Pink will always be a side character. But even side characters can be important to somebody. _

_ Anyway, hopefully the next story will start before Christmas or at least New Year, but just in case it doesn’t: Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, or whatever else you might celebrate! No matter what it is, I hope you enjoy yourself. - Milky Boy Blue _


End file.
